Vault of the Oracle
by Aqua Lion
Summary: A new treasure hunt promises to take Ben's mind off his latest troubles with Abigail. Riley's determined not to let his friend's love life continue its current cycle, but no plan survives contact with the enemy--or with another treasure protector.
1. Again?

**Vault of the Oracle  
Chapter 1: Again?**

_A/N- Um. Okay, the author actually has nothing to note.  
Convergence is the prequel to this fic. Reading it shouldn't be necessary, but if you do, parts of this will make a lot more sense.  
Disclaimer- If I owned National Treasure, this wouldn't be fanfiction. And Ben would wear a fedora. Just in one scene, but it'd happen._

* * *

Riley's head snapped up as the doorbell's piercing chime shattered his concentration. Lack of concentration and World of Warcraft didn't mix well, and he shot a nasty look in the door's general direction as his rogue dropped dead. "Thanks a lot."

Stupid doorbell. He really needed to get that thing fixed. And by 'fixed' he meant 'replace that awful shriek with some real music.' Ben's doorbell played the National Anthem, and that was just a little weird, but it wasn't a bad concept... he stopped thinking about it as the bell sounded again, and got his first look at the clock.

_Odd_. There was really no reason for anyone to be at his door at two in the morning.

Before he could come to any decisions about how to handle the situation, the chime came once more, this time accompanied by knocking. "Riley, it's not dawn yet, I know you're not asleep."

He had the door open in approximately three seconds. "Ben! What's wrong?" There was _really_ no good reason for Ben, of all people, to be at his door at two in the morning unless something horrible had happened.

The older man just shrugged. He didn't look injured or anything, but he was carrying a travel bag. "Abigail kicked me out again, so I went to my dad's, and it turns out I left my key to his place at home. It's way too late to wake him up. So I was wondering if I could stay here for the night?"

Riley's jaw dropped. He wouldn't be surprised if it had hit the ground, cartoon-style, leaving him nothing but a large mouth standing in his doorway. "Wh... what?"

"Just for one night, I'll go to Dad's tomorrow—"

"Get in here!" He all but dragged his friend into the apartment. He knew there was a reason he'd gotten two bedrooms, other than extra storage space. "And you can stay as long as you want, don't make your dad complain about having all your junk in his house again. Around here I won't know the difference." As he spoke he'd climbed over three bundles of wiring, a bag of Cheetos, a broken motherboard, and a stack of video games. A few more boxes could hardly hurt. "She kicked you out at this time of night?"

"Well no. I didn't realize I didn't have my key until I got there, and there just _happened_ to be a police patrol in the area when I was trying the door." Ben shook his head. "So after taking half an hour to explain things to him, I headed here, and you know how that is."

That was a bit over an hour drive. "Uh huh." Riley pushed him into what passed for the guest room, obvious as such because it had more than six square inches of visible floor space. Shelf space no, but at least there was floor space. "Unpack. I don't have an alarm clock in here, but I can rig something up with a bucket and some ice water if you want."

Ben gave him a look that he knew very well—the _I'm not sure if you're joking and I don't want to find out_ look. "That's okay, I'll manage."

"You sure?"

"Quite."

"Suit yourself!" Riley returned to the main room, grabbed a pillow off the couch, and threw it in after his friend. "Breakfast's at seven, unless you're brave enough to look through the fridge on your own."

"Seven? You'll be up at _seven_?"

"I'll be going to bed at seven." He grinned, able to picture Ben's exasperated expression clearly. "Now stop insulting my sleeping habits and worry about yours, or I'll throw another pillow at you."

"I'm unpacking, I'm unpacking!"

--

Riley sat scowling at his computer, which really wasn't fair. It wasn't the machine's fault Ben had showed up on his doorstep at such an unholy hour. It wasn't the machine's fault that Abigail had thrown him out again.

Again!

It wasn't that Riley minded having Ben stay, far from it. But he was really starting to wonder about Abigail constantly booting him out of his own house. Which it was. Ben's treasure, Ben's finder's fee, Ben's house, Ben's alarm system that Abigail had changed the codes for. He wondered how long it would take before he had to break in this time.

He'd ask what happened, of course. Ben would brush him off with some explanation about her using some innocent word too much, not paying attention to the _rest_ of the words, and he would say nothing. The idea that maybe it was better this way would stay locked in his head where it belonged. But really. It was getting ridiculous.

To take his mind off the mess that was Ben's love life, he returned to the most basic necessity of human existence: the Internet. "Anything fun and exciting happening out there?" he inquired of the screen, closing the game and opening four news sites in as many seconds. And everyone wondered why he didn't bother getting a newspaper. "Let's see. Politicians arguing... that's not news. Hurricanes... not gonna hit _here_. Five-legged mutant dog... not news either, and 25 percent more allergies, heck with that. More politicians arguing... still not news. NBA finals? I give up."

Maybe stabbing some demons would be a better distraction. He was about to go back to his game when he caught sight of a small headline in the corner. **Smithsonian welcomes Greek history scholars to study Templar treasure. **

"Hope Ben doesn't find out about that," he mumbled. "He'll go listen in and I'll be hearing about it for a week. Not my problem anymore!" He couldn't explain why, but he was pretty sure the headline was laughing at him as he closed the window.


	2. The New Hunt

**Vault of the Oracle  
**Chapter 2: The New Hunt

* * *

"...now? Really? I can be there in an hour or so. Sure, no problem. Right. Thanks. Bye."

Ben's voice drifted in from the main room, slowly drawing Riley out of his dreams of dancing badgers. Probably just as well. Then he realized that he was hearing Ben's voice in his apartment. "Wha's he doin here?" he mumbled, throwing the covers off and trying to convince his eyes to open.

It all came rushing back to him, as it had for the past three days. Right. Ben was staying with him since Abigail kicked him out again. Surely by the end of the week he'd be used to this fact. _But who was he talking t... oh yeah. Phone. Duh._ "What was that about?"

There was no apology for waking him, not that he'd expected one. It _was_ past noon, after all. "The Smithsonian called. They had a couple of researchers looking at a few of the scrolls from the Templar treasure; they want me to have a look at what they found. Said it might involve another big discovery." Ben appeared in the doorway. "Want to come along?"

_Oh no, they told him about... wait. Another discovery? Another treasure? _"Already?" the younger man moaned, rolling out of bed and staying sprawled on the floor. "You can't be serious. I think I just finished drying myself off from Cibola last week. My _bones_ were waterlogged."

"Surely the finder's fee from that was enough to get you a decent towel? Maybe a hair dryer, they're used for more than viewing invisible ink, you know."

Riley gave him a glare that might've been more effective if he weren't flat on the floor. "Right, laugh it up. What're they sending us after this time? Camelot? Better not be Atlantis like Sadusky keeps suggesting, because I refuse."

"Riley..."

"No more water. Uh-uh. Absolutely not."

"Riley, I don't _know_ what they want, that's why I'm going to talk to them. So are you coming?"

There was really a question? "Of course I'm coming! Gonna let me get dressed?"

"Nah, you look fine. Great, really."

Riley flopped over into a sitting position and examined the smiley-face boxers and oversized Batman T-shirt he slept in. "I ought to wear this just to embarrass you, but I feel like being nice today. Give me ten minutes."

--

Ben leaned over the pieces of parchment, examining the characters with what he hoped was an appropriately studious expression. Fact was, he didn't read a word of ancient Greek. Apparently word of his talents had been somewhat exaggerated. "So what's it say?" he asked finally, when it became clear nobody was going to tell him on their own.

"They're records from Delphi," the man who'd been introduced as Dr. Xylander explained. "From the oracle there."

Riley, who'd opened his laptop three minutes into the discussion, looked up for the first time. "Oracle?" he repeated with a wicked glint in his eyes. "No problem."

"No," Ben groaned. "You can't hack this. It's the Delphic oracle, known as the Pythia. She was said to make prophecies with the blessing of Apollo, the god of—"

"Oh. Never mind." He went back to typing.

Xylander chuckled. "The oracle of Delphi was, as I'm certain you know, showered with rich gifts from those seeking prophecies and guidance. Much of its wealth was looted as the oracle lost influence in its waning years, and of course a great deal has been recovered by excavations of the site. However..." He pushed one of the papers forward, as if expecting Ben to make sense of them now. "These records indicate that much of the treasure of Delphi was hidden by the oracle's priests, rather than stored in the city's treasuries. The city was a tempting target to many, you understand, and measures were taken to keep the most rare and valuable artifacts untouchable."

Ben frowned. "So these documents you've been looking at are what, an inventory?"

"No, if such a list exists we haven't found it yet. These documents explain where the treasure was hidden."

Riley was looking interested again. "So from all the papers you've got there, I assume it's not just the ancient Greek version of here's the treasure, spend wisely?"

Chuckling again, the researcher turned to face him. "No, I'm afraid not. It appears the Pythia herself decreed where the site ought to be. And the Pythia wasn't really known for her straightforward instructions." He lifted the parchment for Riley to see, though Ben was pretty sure the young hacker knew even less than he did about Greek.

"Uh huh." Riley leaned forward and squinted at the letters. "Okay. Triangle, rounded backwards E, triangle with no bottom, little squiggly circle thing..."

Xylander snorted. "Allow me." Placing the parchment back on the table, he leaned forward and began to read. "Holy Delphi shines, a beacon to thieves and plunderers. Let the most sacred of treasures be taken far from the grasp of wickedness, known only to those whose wisdom is sharper than blades." He looked up from the document. "It goes on to say that the vault requires two keys, which were taken to two distant locations. These," he gestured to other parchments, "are the riddles stating where the keys and the vault itself are hidden."

"Wait, you mean we get to start with all the clues this time?" Riley asked. "I'm in!"

Ben laughed and looked at the documents again, resisting the urge to say it was all Greek to him. "Can we get a translation of these, by chance?" Riley was right, of course; it hadn't been that long since discovering Cibola. But it was a treasure hunt, it sounded interesting, and it would be a distraction from the fact that his girlfriend had kicked him out again.

"Oh, not a problem." Xylander took out a notepad and began writing.

_And maybe nobody'll shoot at us this time_. "Dr. Xylander?"

"Call me Jason, please."

"Jason," Ben corrected. "Do you know if anyone else has this information?"

He thought about this for a few moments, then shook his head. "I would think not. No records hinting at such a treasure were ever recovered from Delphi, and these particular scrolls haven't been placed on public exhibit yet. Why?"

"Oh, I was just thinking about the axiom of treasure hunting." He shot Riley a smug look, which his friend answered by sticking out his tongue. "It'll be nice to search at our own pace for once."

"Ah, yes. Your previous finds have been quite exciting, haven't they?" The researcher smiled and tore off the sheet of paper he'd been writing on. "Here you go. I wish you the best of luck; don't get too bored by the lack of crimes likely to be involved."

Ben shook his head, amused. _Okay, so I've got a reputation_. He took the paper and motioned for his companion to pack up his laptop. "I appreciate it, Jason. I'll stay in touch."

"You know," Riley commented as they left, "the way he said 'likely' there worries me a little."

"Can't imagine why you'd feel that way."

"Let's just say I'm getting used to this by now."

--

Two days later, Riley was dearly wishing they could find a crime to commit. Didn't have to be a felony. Even a little one would work. Heck, he'd settle for parking illegally, but Ben kept insisting on driving. Maybe his frequent suggestions that he could drive to the Library of Congress in his sleep by now had something to do with it.

"This is _boring_," he whined as he pushed another book aside. "And I'm getting really sick of this library. Seems like every time we're here we end up with cops after us."

"Well they're running out of time for it. I think we're about done here." Ben picked up the book Riley had discarded. "Anything good?"

"Just the same junk that's been in ten other books."

"Same here. Pack up, I think we're good to go."

When Ben said they were about done, of course, he only meant done with the _first_ clue. But Riley wasn't about to complain if he wanted to take them one at a time—especially if it meant they wouldn't have to spend a week straight poring over books. "I assume that means you've made some sense of this mess," he waved the paper with the clues on it, "because all I've gotten is that the first key's in a castle somewhere."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Sort of."

"Sort of?"

He pointed to the first clue. "The palace of Crete, between walls where legends dwell, must hide the first of the keys. Where once Asterion reigned with terror now becomes a sanctuary."

"Yep. In a castle, got that. So who's Asterion? I didn't see anyone named that in the books."

"Were you looking?" That question earned him the young man's best scowl. "Asterion was another name for the Minotaur."

Riley stopped stacking books and stared at him, wide-eyed. "Okay, uh, Ben? We're treasure hunters, not bullfighters."

"The Minotaur's not _real_, Riley."

_Uh-huh_. _Where have I heard this before?_ "Right. And the Templar treasure doesn't exist, and the Declaration cannot possibly be stolen, and your dad didn't leave the toothbrushes in Marrakech, and the City of Gold will never be found."

"That's entirely diff... wait, how do you know about the toothbrushes?"

"Ben, when your parents get going, it takes more than a closed door and a crowded hallway to drown it out."

"I suppose you're right about that." He sighed. "Okay Riley, if it's going to worry you that much, the Minotaur's dead. Theseus killed it. Awhile ago. A long while. He's not there anymore. Feel better now?"

"Sure." Closing the last book and putting it on top of his stack, he eyed Ben's side of the reading table, which looked pretty much untouched. In fact, his friend's eyes were flickering over the open page. "Hey hey, you said we're done, cut that out. Here, you go put these," he gestured to his stack, "away. I'll get yours..." He trailed off.

Someone had just walked into the reading room. _Abigail_. Quite possibly the last person he wanted to see right now, barring Ian escaping from prison or Mitch returning from the grave, and she seemed to pop up everywhere. _How does she _do_ that? _He sighed. Not that he would mind chatting, but the last thing anyone needed right now was for her to catch sight of Ben. No doubt she had a lecture stored away in her head for just such an occasion.

"Actually, why don't you go get the car? I'll finish cleaning up here and catch up with you."

Ben stared at him blankly. "You're... volunteering... to put things away?"

"Well if I let you do it, you'll pull out two new books each time you put one up and we'll be here until January."

The older man attempted to look wounded, but denied nothing. And wasn't going to argue. "Well, if you insist. See you in a few."

Riley watched him until he was safely out of the room, with no close encounters of the female kind, then went back to work. He had most of the books returned to their shelves when he heard someone calling his name. Glancing up, he saw Abigail walking towards him and flashed her a grin. "Hey, long time no see!"

She nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable for a moment. _Probably knows where Ben's been staying_. Then it passed. "What are you up to? I expected you'd be writing instead of reading by now."

"Huh? Oh." A pang went through him at the mention of writing, but as always, he gave no sign. "Nah, I think my literary career's over. One book was plenty. Publishers, deadlines, you know? They're murder." _Besides, it's not like anyone wanted to read it_. He'd gotten over that by now... mostly. "Just doing some research."

"I see." She raised an eyebrow and looked at the book he was still holding, which happened to be on Cretan history. And of course, Abigail knew how much he loved history. "Another treasure, huh?"

_Uh oh_. He tried to look nonchalant. "Could be."

"Can I help?"

He'd been afraid she was going to say that.

--

Riley's demeanor changed instantly. It wasn't a huge change, but Abigail had known him long enough to pick up on such things, and she'd definitely struck a nerve somewhere. "Abigail, what's going on?" He sounded tired. "It's been a month since he moved back in."

"Six weeks."

"Whatever." He leaned back against the shelf, crossing his arms and watching her carefully. "Ben shows up at my door and says you've kicked him out again, he forgot the key to his dad's place, can he crash with me? And here we're barely over all the boring hey-look-you-found-a-treasure parties. I don't know, seemed a little... abrupt." He raised an eyebrow. "Oh and for the record, it'll take you longer to change your alarm code than it'll take me to crack it, so save us both some effort and don't bother."

She shrugged. "It's a little too late now. Do I need to get a dog, too?"

"We'll hope it doesn't come to that." He shook his head. "So what happened _this_ time, anyway?"

"Oh, same old. He always knows what's right, no matter what anyone else thinks."

"I thought you two worked that out?"

"So did I." She sighed. "Not so much, apparently. He asks me about some things—you know, things he thinks I think are important. And that's about it. He just can't seem to grasp the concept that he might be wrong."

Riley cocked his head. "Oh, that's all." He spoke in a neutral tone which Abigail recognized, though she'd heard it only once or twice before; a sign that he was consulting his brain prior to opening his mouth. That was a small miracle in itself. "Same old story."

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed he does it."

"Noticed? Abigail, he's always been like that. He'll probably always be like that. It annoys me sometimes too." He leaned forward and grinned. "But I figure I drive him crazy too, so we're even." A shrug. "I let it go, because that's what friends do."

"Yes, but..." Abigail trailed off, studying the young man as if for the first time. _That's it? That's why_... she could remember several incidents where Ben's treatment of his comrade didn't seem at all like _what friends do_. But apparently Riley felt otherwise. "That's not what couples do!"

"Then maybe you should try being friends?"

"Why?" she scowled. "So he can use me like he uses you?"

_Oh_. She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Just because she was frustrated about Ben didn't mean she had to take it out on his friend, who also happened to be _her_ friend. _That was uncalled for_.

In an instant, Riley's eyes had hardened into twin sapphire blades, piercing her with something very close to hate. She'd never seen him so angry, including the memorable occasion where he'd tried to punch Mitch in the face. "Excuse me?"

_Now why did I have to go and say anything?_ "I'm sorry, I—"

"No. Don't bother." He threw his backpack over his shoulder and paced around her. "You don't like him anymore. Fine. But don't try to tell me I shouldn't be his friend either."

"That wasn't what—"

"You know, you never complain when there's treasure involved. Then once it's over you drop him. I don't think you should be talking about him using people, and you've got a lot of nerve to complain about how _he_ treats _you_. Just... if it's that bad, just stay away from him."

In shock, she watched as he stalked from between the shelves. Then she took off after him. "Riley, hang on, I didn't mean—" She grabbed his arm. "Riley!"

He shook her off. "Stay away from him, Abigail. And stay away from me."


	3. Riley's Choice

**Vault of the Oracle  
**Chapter 3: Riley's Choice

* * *

Riley had been uncharacteristically quiet since returning from the library, sprawling out on the couch and watching the ceiling as if _it_ were the next clue. Ben had launched into an explanation of exactly where they were going, which saved him from actually having to speak, but he kept getting odd glances from the older man. Probably because he hadn't tried to interrupt with a wisecrack yet.

"They've never discovered exactly where in the Knossos complex the labyrinth was supposed to be, but there are some theories. It could be that the whole palace is the labyrinth. And if that's the case, then if the key is hidden where the Minotaur _reigned_, where do you reign in a palace? In the throne room. That's where we start."

_What if the key fell out when the room was thrown? _Riley wanted to ask, but he didn't. He was too busy replaying the discussion with Abigail over and over in his head.

"...to tourists. I'm going to talk to the curator once we get there, of course." Another odd look as the young man still didn't reply, then a wicked smirk crossed Ben's face. "You'll need to pack well, the trip alone's going to take two days."

Wide blue eyes fixed on him for the first time. "Funny, Ben."

"Not joking."

"Still funny. Me on a plane for more than four hours."

He got yet another strange look when he didn't elaborate on that, and there was more than enough he could've said. Both of them remembered the disaster that was their last trip to Europe, which had included threats to hack the plane's controls and start skywriting. 'Ian Howe Sucks,' 'Buckingham or Bust,' and 'Read My Book' had been suggested phrases.

"Riley, seriously, what's bothering you?"

And there was Ben doing what Ben did best. Anyone else would've asked _if_ something was bothering him. But there was no reason for a question like that when it was so obvious... and Riley supposed he'd made it pretty obvious, but he found he didn't really want to answer it.

"I'm busy being traumatized by the thought of spending that much time on an airplane."

"And that's why you've been so quiet for an hour before I even mentioned the travel time?"

_Ugh. Good point_. "I can think of these things myself!"

"Riley."

He really was awfully persistent, even on the rare occasions it wasn't treasure he was focusing on. No sense fighting it. "I ran into Abigail while I was putting the books away."

It never failed to amaze him how well Ben seemed to take rejection. He didn't even bat an eyelash at the mention of his girlfriend, who just happened to have kicked him out and changed the alarm code again. He was just... unshakable. Probably had something to do with the years he'd spent being called crazy for chasing imaginary treasure. "And?"

"We kind of argued." _If by 'kind of argued' you mean 'I totally snapped' anyway._ He wasn't looking forward to explaining that.

"Let me guess, leave her alarm system alone or else?" Saved!

"Yeah, pretty much. She's threatening to get a dog now." There were other parts of the conversation he'd like to have mentioned, but they weren't Ben's problem. Ben didn't need to know she wanted to help with the treasure hunt, because he'd probably accept it, and that could go nowhere good. He certainly didn't need to know she'd questioned their friendship... or that Riley had his own questions...

_No, I do _not_ have questions!_

Ben laughed, snapping him out of that train of thought. "I wouldn't worry about that. She hates dogs. You really think she'd risk getting fur and slobber all over the house?"

"She let the White House guy in, didn't she?"

To his surprise, the older man seemed to take that point seriously. "She did, at that. But Connor doesn't strike me as a big drooling guard dog. Maybe something yappy like a chihuahua."

Riley couldn't have kept a straight face in response to that if he'd tried. Under the circumstances, he wasn't even trying. "How 'bout a poodle?"

Ben got That Look on his face, and Riley knew any further questioning was mercifully over. "You know, poodles are actually intelligent dogs which were often used as a hunting breed before pet societies got hold of them—"

_You've got to be kidding_. "Okay okay, chihuahua it is. And thank you, I'll _never_ get the image of a poodle with a crossbow out of my head now." He rolled over and buried his head in the couch cushions with a whimper. "So when are we leaving?"

"How's tomorrow sound?"

"Like we're in a hurry or something. I was hoping when Dr. Xylophone—" Ben snorted—"said nobody else was after this one, we could take it a little slower."

"Well sure, but where's the fun in that?"

"Actually getting to sleep once in awhile."

"Look at it this way. The sooner we get there, the sooner we find the treasure."

"Can't argue with that." Even if he could, there wasn't much point. This was Ben after all. And as everyone around him knew, once he had something in his head, that was it. "So if you're so excited, shouldn't you be making some travel arrangements?"

Without another word, Ben pulled out his cell phone and headed back to the guest room, leaving Riley flat on the couch. "Ah, geez. You're serious, aren't you?"

"Very! Get packing."

--

Riley spread two suitcases out on his bed, tossing clothes into one and carefully arranging electronics in the other. It was impossible to predict what he'd actually need, though he felt pretty confident that leaving the helicopter home was safe. Ben had mentioned they were going to a tourist site. Maybe that meant he wouldn't have to hack anyone's security for once. Then again, Buckingham Palace allowed tourists too.

At least whatever their plan was probably wouldn't involve Abigail showing up to complicate things again. She was doing quite enough of that already.

_Why? So he can use me like he uses you?_

He sighed and pitched another hoodie in with the rest of his clothes, not really paying attention to what he was doing. He was too far lost in thought.

Ben did not use him. Of this he had no doubt, not even sparing the possibility a thought. Because if he thought about it he took a risk, the one risk he wasn't willing to take for anything.

What if she was right?

What would he do about it, really?

Probably nothing. Besides, it didn't matter. She _wasn't_ right. He didn't care what she thought, and besides, he had other opinions to take into account. More important ones.

_You're going to grow up, and you're going to meet more people who don't care about you. Who just want to use you_.

He stopped packing altogether and stared at the bed, knowing it was useless to fight off the memories. Not that he really wanted to. Memories were, after all, the only place he could hear his brother's voice anymore.

_And maybe someday you'll run into someone who wants more than that, someone who's worth caring about. Who sees you as more than a tool_.

Sure, and he'd found that someone. Someone else who was alone, who nobody believed in or took seriously. Ben had been so much like him, despite all the differences on the surface. He'd needed someone to trust him as much as Riley needed someone to trust.

_If you find that person, Riles, don't ever let them go. Don't _ever_ let them go_.

After all they'd been through, he was pretty sure that wasn't an issue.

_But kid... choose wisely._

He had chosen wisely. Nothing his some mean Declaration lady said would change that. And yet, there were moments he wondered. Moments he wasn't sure which was more important—that Ben was his best friend, or that he was his only friend. Of course he wasn't being used. Or was he just so desperate he couldn't admit it? It really amounted to the same thing, he supposed.

"Hey Riley?"

The voice from the doorway pulled him out of his reflection. "Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I borrow this for the plane trip?" The older man held up one of the only two books to find space on the guest room's bookshelves, tucked between spare equipment and piles of batteries. "My copy's still at home, since Abigail hasn't let me back in to get the rest of my things yet."

Riley's eyes widened slightly as he saw the book, _his_ book, in Ben's hand. What answer did he really expect to get to that? "All yours."

"Thanks."

Ben turned and went back to his room, leaving the young hacker to call after him. "And it's about time!" But even as he yelled it a smile was crossing his face.

_Choose wisely, huh_.

Riley slammed the suitcases shut, still grinning. Okay, so maybe it wasn't the easiest choice. But wasn't there a saying about no pain, no gain?

"All right." He fell back on the bed. "Knossos or bust!"


	4. Travel

**Vault of the Oracle  
Chapter 4: Travel**

_A/N- Fun fact: the flu can really mess with your writing. Ugh. That's my excuse for the lateness of this chapter. Anyway, thanks much to everyone who's reviewed! Abigail _will_ come into play later, but it'll be at least another chapter or two.  
Disclaimer again- Just in case there was any question, I still don't own National Treasure, this is still fanfiction, and Ben's still hatless._

* * *

"Riley, that's the sixth time you've checked your backpack since we got on the plane." Ben couldn't quite hold back his laughter as his companion started to dig through his carry-on. Again. "Relax, would you?"

"Uh huh. We'll see who's laughing when we find a crazy bull-dude running around." The younger treasure hunter gave him an affronted look. "We've found enough things that don't exist to convince me not take my chances, and that's final!"

Ben shook his head, amused. He was fairly certain that Riley didn't really expect to encounter a minotaur—the kid was entirely too smart for that. He hoped. But give him an opening... "All right. I defer to your skill at planning ahead for the least likely situations. Did you bring a camera? If you do tangle with a minotaur I want pictures."

After nearly a full minute of silence, Ben was forced to conclude he'd accomplished the impossible: he'd left Riley speechless. He took a few moments to savor his victory, then felt curiosity getting the better of him. "What exactly _did_ you bring, anyway?"

"Essential anti-bull supplies, of course. Observe." He opened the pack again and pulled out a piece of red cloth, a metal keychain, a book, and what appeared to be a Nerf crossbow. "There aren't really any stores back home that carry bullfighter capes, so this bandanna was the best I could do on the traditional approach. This," he held up the keychain, "is the symbol of the Horde, because minotaurs are kind of like tauren so maybe I can convince him I'm on his side. There's a book on Greek mythology because hopefully if I just _tell_ the minotaur he's already dead, he'll keel over. And the crossbow..." He paused for a few moments and then shrugged. "Everyone knows a centaur with a crossbow would beat a minotaur with a trident. I'm not a centaur, but he probably won't have a trident, so it'll even out."

Apparently that was Riley's revenge for being caught speechless. Ben had known he'd probably regret asking the question, but wow. _Wow_. "O... kay... um..." Where could he even begin to respond? "I don't think the minotaur actually had a trident, where'd you hear that?"

"Not telling." Riley grinned and started packing up again. "You don't spend nearly enough time on the internet, Ben. We need to fix that. Then you'd know these things."

"Can I pass?"

"Sure. Your loss though."

For several minutes, they sat in silence, Riley staring out the window and Ben trying to muster up the motivation to get in his own bag and dig out a book. The mental image of a minotaur and centaur locked in an epic battle was stubbornly refusing to leave his mind now, and... wait. He looked over at his friend, waiting for Riley to notice someone was staring at him.

Two minutes later he figured he'd waited long enough. "Riley?"

"Uh-huh."

"How did you get... a crossbow... on the plane?"

"It's a toy crossbow, Ben."

"You're not even allowed to bring _water_ on the plane!"

"Don't bring logic into this, that's completely unfair. ...You don't want to know the answer anyway."

After a moment's consideration, Ben decided that was probably true.

All right. Time to get on something he really should have done a long time ago. His first reaction to the copy of The Templar Treasure in the guest room was that he was being given a hint, but the fact that it was there when he first walked in eventually sank in. No subliminal messages. It just happened to be there, greeting him every time he walked into the room, staring at him while he tried to sleep, demanding to know when he was finally going to give a real look at the work his best friend had poured his heart into.

And it was a little disturbing that a _book_ could do all that, really. But he'd been distracted again—by moving, again—and then it had hit him where he was moving. In with Riley. Yes, the very same Riley whose book he hadn't read.

Guilt could be a savage little critter when it pounced and got its fangs into you, Ben mused as he flipped the book open.

_Introduction: Things my lawyer said would be good to mention._

_You now hold in your hands the definitive account of the greatest treasure hunt ever. Why was it the greatest? Well, there's the excitement, the adventure, the suspense, and a lot of other great qualities that they talk about in movie trailers. But the most important thing is, the treasure in question didn't exist. Or at least, that's what the historical community would have had you believe until it was sitting in their laps._

_Before reading any further in this book, there's something you should know. The stunts described during the search for the Templar treasure were not performed by trained professionals under carefully-controlled circumstances. It was all real, all scary, and all perfect for YouTube if only we'd had the foresight to bring a camera. _

Ben snickered. He wasn't certain what he'd expected, even after glancing through the chapter on the President's Book, but it was all just so... Riley.

_Which brings me to my next point. _Don't_ try this at home. Seriously. A lot of good karma was slaughtered to make it out of the hunt alive, and it's probably sitting out there in karma-afterlife just waiting for the next sucker to blow up a ship in the Arctic Circle. Don't tempt it!_

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his friend shooting covert glances at him, watching for a reaction. There was something odd in his eyes. Worry? Fear? What, did he honestly think Ben wasn't going to like... wait. Ben had taken months to even open the thing. Okay, so maybe he had a point there.

"Hey Riley."

"Yeah?"

"When's the sequel due?"

He didn't get a straight answer to that, but the grin on the young man's face said it all.

--

"Hmm. This is not so good."

The woman's green eyes had already narrowed to slits, but somehow they managed to narrow even further. She'd probably reread the department email from Dr. Xylander twenty times. It was no better on the last read than on the first—and wasn't the definition of insanity to repeat the same action and expect the same result? Best to stop. She closed the window and shook her head. "What was he thinking, really?"

It had been one thing when Jason and his team had gone overseas to study the scrolls. That was what scholars did, after all. Surely not a problem. So while she'd been asked if she wanted to go along, it hadn't seemed worth taking time off her own projects.

Somehow, she hadn't at all foreseen the scrolls leading to the lost vault of the Oracle. _That_ particular note of history was supposed to be her secret alone. And now the old fool had gone and recruited the treasure hunter of all treasure hunters to seek out the vault. Without even consulting the rest of the department. Really, how _rude_.

Well. Preparations would need to be made if she were to head this off. She leaned back. "Elias!"

"Yes, madam?"

"Agh!" _How does he do that?_ Once she'd recovered from jumping three feet in the air, courtesy of her butler's uncanny ability to sneak up behind her unnoticed, she turned around. "I, ah..." Okay, so maybe another moment to regain her composure. "It appears I have urgent business in the United States, and I'm going to need your assistance."

He didn't ask. He never did. "I will prepare to leave right away, madam."

"Excellent. Also, prepare one of the guest rooms, we'll need it ready when we return."

At this, he raised an eyebrow, but then nodded and swept out of the room. She thoroughly intended to explain things to him. Later. For now, travel arrangements and research were the top priorities.

There was no doubt in her mind that Ben Gates would be able to find the vault, if left to his own devices. And that could not be allowed.

--

_Chapter Two: A Windowless Cubicle_

_Hi! I'm Riley._

_Every time I say that, I start to go over a mental checklist. Do you have a monitor? Everything plugged in? Turned on? Are you actually near the computer? Do you know what an operating system is? If I call you stupid will you call my boss?_

_The answer to that last one's invariably 'yes,' by the way._

_I had the exciting and stimulating job every computer enthusiast dreams of... in their worst nightmares. Tech support. And this was at a university (name withheld; lawyer's idea) filled with stuffy professors who can't stand the idea that a kid the same age as their students might know more than they do about, well, anything._

_So when this strange guy showed up wanting to look at the history department's database, and got laughed out of the chairman's office, I decided I might as well help him out. Not exactly out of the goodness of my heart, I admit. It was more like, how can I annoy the higher-ups today?_

_He was looking for someone named Charlotte, who lived somewhere in the late 18th century, and that was all he knew. Weird. But I didn't ask questions. We'd hack in, do the search, and he'd be on his way, and I'd never see him again. No problem._

_If only I knew._

"Please tell me you didn't detail our, uh, second meeting in here."

Riley lifted his eyes and turned his most angelic expression on his friend. "What, you mean when I barged into your house and started cooking up hangover remedies because you were too drunk to open the door?"

That wasn't exactly one of Ben's prouder memories. Actually, he'd be more than happy to just pretend that stage in his life had never existed, and he usually did. As far as he knew, only Riley was aware of it. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be what I meant."

"I'm not telling. You'll have to keep reading. But for what it's worth, did you see any tabloids splashing 'Treasure hunter Ben Gates: does he need rehab?' on their front pages after the book was published?"

"Good point."

He found it several pages later, at the very end of the chapter.

_The guy had dropped something on his way out, and that 'something' turned out to be a credit card. I've had more of those go missing than I really care to admit, and figured it would really be much nicer to return it in person than stick it in the mail and let him sweat for a couple days. He wasn't home, so I stuck it under his door and left a note._

_The next day he showed up in my cubicle to thank me, which I wasn't expecting at all, and to cover my surprise I asked how the hunt for Charlotte was going. And if he didn't mind my asking, why was he looking for her?_

_He didn't mind my asking. He was still talking an hour later._

"Not a bad dodge."

"I thought it worked pretty well. Did you really think I'd write the _whole_ story? Your mom could've read that book!"

Ben smirked, but didn't voice his first reaction. His mother _had_ read that book.

--

"Good morning, Georgetown department of history."

"Ah, hello. I'm trying to reach the office of Ben Gates?"

"One moment, I'll transfer you."

She sighed at the phone as the hold music started playing. This was her fourth transfer since starting to navigate the university's phone system, but at least she was finally almost there. Nearest she could tell, Gates wasn't full-time staff—he just got a full-time office because he was, well, Ben Gates.

Made sense. _She_ certainly wouldn't want to be the poor interim professor who got stuck sharing an office with a living legend.

"Ben Gates' office, may I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Selene Argyris. I do some work for a small press agency in Greece, and I was wondering if I could arrange a short interview? I've heard he's investigating a rumored treasure here."

Giving her real name was risky, she realized as soon as she said it. Too late now. Oh well. If she played her cards right, it wouldn't matter. She couldn't be linked to what would happen. Surely he got a dozen interview requests a week.

As it turned out, the cheerful secretary informed her, there were certainly openings in his schedule in a week and a half. It couldn't be any sooner, because Dr. Gates was in fact on his way to Greece right now on business.

_On business_. Selene didn't like hearing that; she knew exactly what that business would be. _He works fast. I'll have to work faster_. Half an hour of being transferred all over the Georgetown phone lines didn't seem to be a good omen, but she had her appointment in five minutes.

"Of course, thank you for your help. Goodbye." She hung up and headed for her bedroom, not stopping to congratulate herself on her success. It was going to take a lot more than just setting up a meeting to get Ben Gates off the trail of the Oracle's treasure. After all, he didn't have a reputation for being discouraged by the advice of others.

Time to start on plan B.

--

_Chapter Three: The Gates Family's Quest_

_...As it turned out, Ben wasn't really working alone. Pretty close, but not alone. Enter Ian Howe, who will be playing the role of Creepy British Guy for the duration of this story. Ian believed in the treasure, but he didn't like dealing with the research aspect. He was around because he had a couple of things Ben needed: money and evil minions._

_Evil minions, it turns out, are wonderfully useful. No lie. If you need a couple dozen loads of equipment moved, or a really high light bulb changed, or a two hundred year old ship dug out of the ice, just call in the evil minions. No problem._

"You know, you could probably afford to hire some evil minions for yourself if you like them so much."

Riley glanced over with half-closed eyes. "I don't. They're evil. Evil trumps useful any day."

"You could find some that aren't evil."

"Evil is a key component of _evil minions_. You ever heard of good guys with minions? Didn't think so."

"Fair enough."

_Ian had four. His right-hand man was a guy named Shaw, who I knew right away was trouble because he didn't have a first name. (It was Casey, but I had to do a lot of research to find that out.) I'm not entirely sure what his job was, other than to stand around and look scary. He also seemed to have crime on the brain. Iron pens, anyone? I pegged him for an ex-con immediately._

_I'm smart sometimes._

Ben was about to comment on that, but when he looked at Riley again he saw the young man had drifted off to sleep. Understandable, considering he'd stayed up all night packing. And, probably, working out ways to smuggle a crossbow onto an airplane.

Well, there was no point waking him up now. Only seven hours left of this flight, after all. Ben returned to his reading.


	5. The Carnelian Key

**Vault of the Oracle  
**Chapter 5: The Carnelian Key

_A/N- Just for the record, having never actually been to Knossos (or anywhere else in Greece for that matter), this chapter is going to involve a lot of Google and a lot of making stuff up.  
__Thanks for the reviews! Thuraya Known, I'm so glad someone got the centaur reference, I now feel less thoroughly weird for putting that in there... heh._

* * *

When Ben had first mentioned that the palace itself might be the labyrinth, Riley had refrained from comment, mostly because he knew what happened when his friend got started. He'd been rather preoccupied at the time, after all. But he remembered wondering exactly what the heck Ben was talking about. Wouldn't it be obvious if the whole palace were some huge legendary maze?

And that showed what he knew, he mused as he looked over the map again. Why yes, it _was_ quite obvious that the whole palace was a huge maze, thank you very much. That would be why they'd spent the last hour wandering around and found absolutely nothing.

Well... one of the reasons.

"This is _fascinating_," Ben whispered for roughly the eleventh time since they'd entered the complex, stopping to examine a painting of a bull on the nearest wall.

"You've mentioned that," Riley answered for the tenth. There were quite a few paintings of bulls, actually, and he wasn't going to be impressed until he found one with a trident.

The older man gave him an exasperated look. "I can't help it! Just look at this place."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He shifted his backpack uncomfortably. "I've _been_ looking at it for like, the last hour. That doesn't mean I have a clue where we came in, where we are, or where we're supposed to find this key—you do remember we're looking for a key, right?"

Ben shook his head. "You know, Riley, I don't understand how you manage to have such a low appreciation of history when you hang around me and Abigail so much."

The mention of Abigail made him twitch, just slightly. He didn't think Ben even realized what he'd said, which was just so _Ben_ he almost laughed. "Simple. Someone's got to offset your insanity. I thought that was why you kept me around? Well, that and needing someone to drive your getaway car."

While it had been a joke, privately he'd been hoping Ben would argue the point rather than just laugh.

"So weren't you saying we need to find the throne room?"

"Uh-huh." Reluctantly, Ben tore himself away from staring at the murals and pulled out a map of the complex. "Up this way." The curator had allowed them in on a day when the site was usually closed to tourists. After all, they were no ordinary tourists. It helped to have friends in high places.

In his own bit of advance research, also known as looking for a map, Riley had found that the restoration of the Knossos complex had been largely based on educated guesses. It was, in fact, a rather controversial topic in the historical community. He kept reminding himself of that. He'd expected Ben to go off on rants about possible inaccuracies every five minutes, so stopping to just stare at stuff every five minutes was better. Definitely better.

"Over here." Ben practically dragged him out of the corridor, eyes glued to the map—a map the curator had given him, thoroughly negating all of his computer geek friend's work. "Just through... yeah, this is it."

Riley cocked his head and looked around the room. Pillars, a throne, and a large mural of bird heads on cat bodies. He raised an eyebrow. "Aren't gryphons supposed to have wings?"

"Myths vary. Come on, let's start looking." He was suddenly in a hurry, probably because he wanted to get out of the throne room and explore the rest of the palace. "I'll check this side, you check that side. Just keep an eye out for anything unusual."

"We're in a ruined palace, that's home to a minotaur, with wingless gryphons on the walls, and you want me to watch out for stuff that's _unusual_." Riley rolled his eyes. "Gotcha."

Half an hour later, they'd covered pretty much every inch of the throne room, and there was no sign of anything resembling a key, though both of the treasure hunters had gotten well-acquainted with the floor. And the walls. And in Riley's case, he'd even done a pretty good study of the ceiling. But there was nothing.

"It has to be around here _somewhere_." Ben sounded frustrated, and with good reason. They couldn't expect to search the whole complex. Yet the clue _had_ been pretty vague...

"Maybe it's with the princess."

"Huh?"

"In another castle."

For one of the rare moments in his life, Ben Gates looked thoroughly confused. "Say what?"

"Never mind."

They spent another ten minutes searching the corners again, and then came what Riley had known had to come soon: the Ben Moment. And really, when it came to a Ben Moment, there was nothing to do but get out of the way and let the older man work things through.

"Where once Asterion reigned with terror... where he reigned... but not the throne room..." Ben started pacing the room and muttering to himself. "Where else would he reign? Wait. Asterion... the minotaur wasn't a king. He would've reigned the labyrinth, not the palace. But if the palace _is_ the labyrinth..."

"Then we're right back where we started."

"Yeah." In the midst of agreeing, Ben was shaking his head. "The minotaur ruled over the labyrinth. He wasn't a king, but the Minoans demanded sacrifices from the Ath... wait. That could be..."

"What?"

"If he reigned over the place of sacrifices... of course!" He pulled the map out, glanced at it, and went darting down the stairs out of the throne room.

"Ben?" Riley blinked, trying to work out for a moment just what had happened, then darted after him. "Ben, wait up!"

--

The hotel room's door swung open, admitting a dark-haired man who looked very out of place in jeans and a Washington Redskins T-shirt. Selene snickered. She kept trying to convince her butler he was allowed to dress casually while on the job, but he considered it undignified for his station. Perhaps, when picking out a disguise for him, she'd slightly overcompensated for that fact. Slightly.

He nodded to her and launched straight into his report, ignoring her amused look. "It doesn't look too difficult. There's a fairly basic alarm system, of course. Beyond that she doesn't act cautiously at all."

"Naturally. What reason would she have? She has no enemies."

Elias nodded in agreement. "I wasn't able to discern any clear patterns, but she comes and goes a great deal. Finding an opening should not be difficult."

Selene gave him a searching look. "You seem to know quite a bit about this."

"Not really, madam. But I do have some, ah, research sources."

"Uh-huh." She could've asked him to elaborate. However, considering her butler's interest in detective novels, she decided she'd probably rather not know. "You think this should go rather smoothly, then?"

"It ought to."

"I hope you're right." Actually, she hoped Gates would just see reason. That she'd manage to dissuade him from this hunt, even though no amount of disbelief and no number of criminal acts had ever discouraged him before. Her chances of that were slim indeed, so that left more desperate options. It wasn't Abigail Chase's fault that her former boyfriend was so stubborn.

Selene shook her head in frustration. Of all the times someone could've learned of the Oracle's treasure, why did it have to be on _her_ watch? And why did it have to be Ben Gates?

--

By the time Riley caught up, Ben was already kneeling in the middle of a large room examining a round stone... object. "What's this?"

"It's an altar. The mythical labyrinth wasn't a place of rule, it was a place of sacrifice. That's what the minotaur reigned over. Come on, help me look."

"Uhh." If he was going to be entirely truthful, Riley didn't much care for the idea of poking around where ancient people had _slaughtered_ creatures in order to please the big guys upstairs. But then it occurred to him that the sooner they found the key, the sooner they could get out of here, and he took over the search on the opposite side of the altar. "Not much to look at, really."

"Yeah, I know. There's other altars in the palace, this is just the first one I... hey, come have a look at this." He was pointing to where the base of the artifact touched the floor. A sliver of empty blackness was just barely visible between the two. "Let's see if we can move this aside."

"No problem. I mean, it's only a huge chunk of solid rock." Riley dropped his backpack and the two began to push the stone slab, which resulted in about half an inch of movement and two exhausted treasure hunters slumped over the altar. "This is really our best idea?"

"Uh-huh. Keep trying." They pushed again, getting a bit more response this time. On the third attempt, the altar moved far enough to let them see what was below. "This is it!"

Riley looked at the staircase their effort was slowly revealing. "Unbelievable."

By the time the hole was large enough for them to walk through, he was pretty certain his arms were going to fall off, but he grabbed his backpack and hurried to follow Ben into the darkness below. A narrow corridor of crumbling rock stretched ahead of them

"Look at this." The older man gestured to the walls. "There's paintings here also."

"Uh huh." Paintings was, maybe, a little too generous. Most of the paint had chipped off, though he could make out a few fragments of images. These were definitely not like the restorations all over the place upstairs. "What're they supposed to be? This one looks kinda like... uh." He swallowed hard. "Yeah, this one's definitely a minotaur."

"Relax. There's not going to be a minotaur down here."

"I know that! So uh... let's keep going. You first."

Ben chuckled and moved ahead. About thirty feet in, the passage took a sharp turn to the right, opening into a small chamber built from the same plain stone as the rest of the corridor had been. Riley poked his head in the room. No minotaur. Not that he'd expected one, of course.

Of _course_.

What the room did contain was a pedestal of jet black stone, carved with a lot of what looked like Greek that Riley certainly couldn't read. He picked his way over the crumbling floor and took a closer look, mostly to confirm what he'd already noticed. "There's nothing on it."

"Look at the mural behind it," Ben suggested.

The mural in question appeared to be a woman sitting on a three-legged stool. Probably significant. He didn't know what it meant, but had little doubt that Ben would tell him in great detail about it within the next five minutes. What struck him was that it was _different_. The restored murals above were fresh and vibrant, while the ones in the passage had definitely been showing their age. This one was showing some age, but less age, and the style was subtly different as well—Riley hadn't paid enough attention in art class to identify it, but something was off.

"Do you know what that is?"

"I'm gonna guess it's not a billion dollar painting."

Ben snorted. "That, my friend, is the Pythia. The Oracle."

Well. That _was_ interesting. At least they knew they were in the right place. And knowing, after all, was half the battle. But the fact remained... "There's still no key here."

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you think they found it earlier?"

"The curator let me see an inventory list of all the artifacts that have been removed from the site, and there wasn't anything about a key. It's not definitive, but let's look here first. It could've moved on its own."

Riley gave him a skeptical look. "Really."

"Well not on its own, exactly. There's a lot of seismic activity in the Mediterranean, it could've been knocked off by a quake at some point."

"Got it. So it should be around here somewhere." Riley turned his flashlight on the area around the pedestal, frowning. He didn't see anything that looked like a key on the floor, either, but there were a couple of good-sized cracks in the stone. "Down there, knowing our luck." Almost as soon as he finished speaking, his light glinted off something in the deeper of the two fissures. He knelt and tried to pull the shiny object out, but his hand couldn't quite reach.

"Did you find something?" Ben joined him, peering into the shadows.

"I think so." Whatever his light was catching was pale reddish and shiny, and he thought one edge was jagged, though that could've just been the light. "Can you get it?"

"Let's see." A frustrated hiss answered the question a few moments later. "Ugh. I can just barely touch it, if I try hard enough, but there's no way I can get a grip."

"Well that's wonderful. What now?" Riley leaned back against the wall. "Ask your buddy the curator for some excavation tools?"

"I'd rather keep this quiet, if we can. Surely you brought something that can help?" Ben gestured to his backpack, which he'd gently mocked his young friend for bringing along. It wasn't like they were exploring the mountains. It was a ruined palace, not the great wilderness. But Riley had insisted he liked to be prepared for anything, and he _would_ be.

He was regretting that confidence now. He'd planned ahead for minotaurs, car chases, getting hopelessly lost in the ruins, and hacking any security cameras that might be present. It hadn't even occurred to him that they might be trying to dig artifacts out of cracks in the rock. What good was a book or a crossbow going to be for that?

_...Wait. It's a toy crossbow._

He hadn't quite been able to touch the object, himself—Ben's arms were slightly longer. "Is it smooth?"

"Huh?"

"This thing we're trying to dig out. Is it smooth?"

Ben stuck his arm into the crack again and frowned, then nodded. "Smooth as glass."

_Excellent_."I've got it." He started digging through his backpack, piling the Horde keychain and an iPod and a dozen batteries on the ground next to him until he found the crossbow. Or more to the point, the ammunition which had come with the crossbow: a set of foam darts tipped with suction cups. "Try these and hope it's not too heavy."

His friend stared at him, as if unsure whether he was serious or not. Slowly, a grin spread across his face. "Riley, you're a genius. Here, come hold the light for me."

A minute later, Ben was pulling up two Nerf darts with a small slab of glossy stone attached. He popped the suction cups off and tossed them into the backpack. "Wow... this is beautiful."

Riley finished repacking and leaned forward to examine their prize. Larger and fancier than any he'd seen before, it was quite obvious that yes, this was definitely a key. It was roughly the same orange-red as flame, mostly flat, though one edge of the flat part had a sharp series of jagged grooves cut into it. On one end, it tapered into an elaborate carving of a dragon.

There was also some engraving in Greek. Lots of help that was.

"Carnelian," Ben mused. "It's as much decorative as functional. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make this, let alone hide it."

"What's with the dragon?"

"Probably Python. She was an earth serpent that originally lived in the place where the Oracle's temple was built. Apollo killed her, but certain parts of her legend remained—it's where the name Pythia comes from."

"Hm." Riley frowned. "Python doesn't sound like a girl's name." He stood and walked back to the entry passageway, watching for any sign of movement. There was nothing but the faint sunlight trickling down the staircase. "So can we please get out of here now?"

Ben looked pained. "We've barely even seen the palace, Riley! Just because we found what we came for doesn't mean there's nothing else to—"

"I have nothing against investigating the glorious history of Fort Minotaur, Ben. It's just that I know how these things work. We found what we came for, so we should be getting swarmed by maniacs with guns and chased through the streets of Greece any minute now. And maybe the police will get into the act too. And I'd just like to, y'know, get a head start on all that."

Somehow, Ben's failing to take this seriously didn't surprise him at all. "Relax, Riley. Nobody's after the treasure but us. We'll be fine." The older man gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Now come on. It'll be a nice change, exploring a historical site for fun instead of scoping it for a felony, anyway."

"Can't argue with that," Riley muttered. He questioned the definition of 'fun', but trying to debate that with Ben was a lost cause. "But if anything goes wrong, I hereby reserve the right to say I told you so."


	6. Treasure Protectors

**Vault of the Oracle  
Chapter 6: Treasure Protectors**

_A/N- Convergence is (finally) finished, so, back to work on this! Woot. Or something._

* * *

If it were up to Ben, they'd have started researching the second clue as soon as the plane touched the ground. Of course, real life had an irritating habit of continuing even during a treasure hunt. Usually he ignored it, but there were some disadvantages to fame. He actually had work to do.

In fairness, it wasn't that he disliked the work. It was just a distraction.

Nonetheless, he smiled when the dark-haired woman entered his office, looking a little bit uncomfortable. He'd been expecting her, and this _would_ be a nice change from the constant badgering about Cibola; most credible reporters were finished with that story, leaving absurd tabloids to clutter up his schedule.

"Good morning."

She inclined her head in greeting. "Geia sas, Dr. Gates."

"Ben, please."

"Ben," she repeated, shaking the hand he offered. "My name is Selene." She seemed a bit stiff, nervous, though that wasn't unusual. He'd learned that not every reporter was a pushy jerk... some quite the opposite. She would loosen up. "I appreciate you taking the time for this."

_So much better than the tabloids._ "It's no problem at all. I enjoy talking about my work." He grinned, glad he'd come to the office alone. _Imagine what Riley would say if he heard that_. "The Templar treasure and Cibola were both rooted in American history. It's exciting to have this new search in a different culture."

She nodded, sitting back and jotting down a few notes. "It's rather exciting in Greece, as well. Your exploits have quite the following; even more now that you're investigating the oracle's legend."

Ben cocked his head. "Is it so well known? The oracle's treasure, I mean. I got the impression the documents about it were quite a surprise."

"Oh, certainly. But there are always rumors." Selene shrugged. "The idea was mostly discredited when no proof could be found at Delphi. There are still underground theories, among those with an interest. Some believe the treasures were moved because they were dangerous, not valuable—curses, and the like. It's a story as old as the oracle itself."

"You seem to know a lot about it."

She reddened slightly. "I have an interest in history myself... I jumped at the opportunity to do this interview, really. I'm sorry, I got a bit overenthusiastic."

"No, don't apologize. It's interesting."

Despite that, things quickly lapsed into a more standard interview, discussing the Templar and Cibola finds before getting to his recent trip to Knossos. She seemed genuinely interested, rather than just asking questions for the sake of the interview, and he did his best to convey his enthusiasm for the search. He was pretty sure it got across... that was one of his better talents.

"We were there for hours after finding the key, just exploring the palace complex. It's fascinating."

She nodded. "Sounds like you found the key fairly easily."

"I wouldn't call it easily." He remembered the crossbow and chuckled. "But we did find it... there was a hidden chamber beneath one of the altars. That threw us off—the clue said it would be where the minotaur _reigned_. It took some time to work out that it meant the place of sacrifices."

Selene nodded, and he paused to give her some time to write. The key was here, actually; he'd brought it to the office to get some pictures and document the find. There'd been an inscription on it, he remembered... ancient Greek and modern Greek being very different languages, she _had_ claimed an interest in history. Maybe...

"Would you like to see the key?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Yes, of course, I'd love to."

Ben retrieved the artifact from its place, a well-padded box in a desk drawer, and handed it to her, grinning at the way she caught her breath. Grinning because he knew her appreciation was deeper than that of most reporters—which was somewhere along the lines of "Ooh, shiny." She seemed almost in awe as she ran a finger over the scales of the dragon.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. Turning the key over, she found the inscription and squinted at it. "A treasure in itself... do you know what it says?"

"No, I haven't found anyone to translate it yet. I don't suppose you can read it?"

She was silent for quite awhile, frowning at the words. Or not. Maybe it was Ben's imagination, but she seemed to be looking through the key, rather than at it, not focusing on the words at all. But then she nodded. "It says, Python shall rest in the light of Apollo."

_Python shall rest in the light of Apollo?_ He had no idea what that might mean, but figured he could worry about it later.

--

Elias Katsaros was not comfortable with the situation.

Surely he was supposed to be skulking around the Gates house—currently Gates-less, but still—like a thief or a spy, muttering suspiciously to himself. Maybe ducking the occasional patrolling officer or nosy neighbor. Though nosy neighbors were out of the equation already; the estate was secluded behind enough trees to prevent anyone short of a stalker from watching it.

Or a would-be kidnapper. That was good too.

Though he wasn't acting as suspicious as he thought he should. Actually he was leaning against a tree, looking for all the world like a sightseer who'd noticed a particularly impressive house and stopped to take note of it. The place could've been easily mistaken for a historical landmark. Considering who they were dealing with, maybe it was.

It was a simple assignment. Observation. Making sure he knew where Dr. Chase was at all times, and deciding the best place to abduct her. Which would... he wasn't quite sure _how_ that would help, actually. But he hadn't asked, because that wasn't his job.

He sighed and sat in the grass, something he'd never have permitted himself to do with Selene around. Too undignified. He knew that irritated her, but he had the family reputation to uphold... there'd been a Katsaros serving an Argyris for nearly two hundred years. He read enough mystery novels to get an idea of how a butler ought to act, and tried to be as stiff and proper as possible to make up for the fact that he didn't have graying hair or a pencil mustache. He usually kept up that standard of behavior when she wasn't around, but, well... his legs were tired.

The low growl of an engine brought him back to the present. Dr. Chase's car. She was leaving, and he probably ought to follow. But first he glanced at his watch and frowned. Selene would be nearly done with her interview by now... if he hurried, they could probably be back before their target returned home, and that was probably the easiest way to go about it anyway.

He stood and brushed some dirt off his jeans. The sooner he had his boss back, the sooner he might find out what they were doing.

--

The interview with Ben Gates took almost an hour. It was a shame, Selene mused, that she wasn't a journalist and had nowhere to publish all this; he was a good subject.

_Yes, because wasting the interview is the worst thing you're going to do to him._

For all his obvious intelligence, he didn't take hints all too well. That or he was too logical—or perhaps just too brave—for his own good. Whatever the case, she was left with nothing but her backup plan. She'd kind of expected that... it was still disappointing.

"Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Gates," she smiled as she stood. "And good luck with—" At that point, she fumbled her clipboard and sent it clattering to the floor at Gates' feet. "Oh," she muttered with hopefully-convincing frustration, "I'm very sorry..."

"No problem, no problem." He reached down and handed her the clipboard before she could get to it. "It's been a pleasure speaking with you."

She nodded and ducked out, handling the board very carefully. At least that part of the plan had worked... his chivalry had come through. He'd regret that, though he wouldn't know it.

Elias was waiting for her with the rental car they'd acquired upon reaching DC. She tried to hide her mood until the clipboard was safely stowed in a plastic bag in the backseat, but from the look he gave her, she was pretty sure he'd noticed. "How did it go?"

"Not well." He didn't look at all surprised. She slumped over in the passenger seat and shook her head. "On the bright side, I learned much more about his first two treasure hunts than any of the media accounts hinted at. He's quite brilliant. But..." Lost in her musings, she only remembered to fasten her seatbelt when the car lurched to a start. "I made two offhand references to curses and he didn't even blink. Near the end I asked directly and he laughed it off."

"You expected as much, yes?"

"I'd hoped for better, but yes. He's already found one of the keys. There's an inscription on it—I don't recall reading anything about that in the records. I translated it for him..." Elias gave her an odd look. "What? It won't do him any good."

"You'll have to pardon me, madam. I'm still unclear on how kidnapping Dr. Chase is going to keep Dr. Gates away from the oracle's treasure. I've been watching her estate for two days, and she's been on two dates. They are most certainly not together anymore."

"Precisely." She gestured to the backseat. "I dropped my clipboard. He was kind enough to pick it up. We have his fingerprints now. A bit of creative application, a missing ex-girlfriend, and Gates won't be going anywhere for quite some time."


	7. Framed

**Vault of the Oracle  
Chapter 7: Framed**

* * *

Given his sleeping habits, Riley could hardly be concerned if he woke up and Ben was gone. Still, the older man typically left a note, maybe thinking his friend would start hacking random security cameras to find him otherwise. There were times he might.

On this particular day, it was two in the afternoon when he forced himself to vacate bed and find some coffee. Ben's notes were always left on the coffee maker—it was the only way to ensure Riley would find them.

_Went to Dad's. Back around noon._

Hmm. That was interesting. "Noon, huh? Not that you've ever been accused of a great sense of time, but..." This far off was a little odd. He shrugged it off and gulped down some much-needed caffeine before letting himself worry about it too much. Or, really, at all. It wasn't that Ben couldn't take care of himself. But he did have a habit of getting sidetracked.

If he came back with clues to Atlantis, Riley was going to have to revolt.

After achieving sufficient caffeination, he tried to call Patrick's house, but didn't get an answer. Also interesting. Maybe they'd decided to go out to lunch, a little father-son bonding. Hopefully Ben would think to bring him a cheeseburger.

He turned his attention to his computer, but couldn't quite shake the sense of unease creeping over him. Something just wasn't _right._

Frown. "Wait..." He dialed Patrick's number again. Still no answer. Also no answering machine... and that went beyond interesting into outright worrying. _Power outage?_ He checked a few websites and concluded that wasn't the problem.

Despite knowing quite well that nothing was wrong, that he'd show up and get laughed at, he was getting ready to drive over and check things out himself when the phone rang. He didn't recognize the number, but this didn't seem like the time to be ignoring strange phone calls.

"Hello?"

"Riley." Ben could probably hear his sigh of relief over the phone, because whatever he'd been about to say turned into, "I have some, uh, bad news."

"If it's about Atlantis..."

Ben chuckled, though it seemed forced. "Hardly. See, we're kind of in prison."

Riley took a few moments to consider the proper reaction to this. Oddly enough, surprise wasn't at the top of his list. Or perhaps that wasn't odd. He knew how Ben operated by now. Though he surely hadn't been attempting a spontaneous felony without his hacker-in-chief? And certainly not with his dad, which the _we_ seemed to indicate. "What'd you do this time?"

"That's the thing, I _didn't_."

"That's a first."

His mind helpfully provided the image of Ben rolling his eyes that couldn't come across the phone. "Yes, yes it is."

"So do you need me to come bail you out?"

"No, no... they're not offering bail." There was a pause and a muted conversation behind him. "Look, Riley, they're not giving me much time to talk. Just... well, turn on the news, you'll see." Another brief exchange on the other end. Whoever he was talking to sounded annoyed. "I'll call again when I get a chance and tell you more, bye." He hung up in a rush.

Riley flipped his phone shut and frowned at it. To be honest, he'd dearly love to know how Ben had coerced the obviously grumpy guards to let him have that much of a phone call. He'd have to ask. Later. Right now he needed to find out what was going on, and how long a break he was going to get from research. _Probably illegal parking._ Most of the local feds _did_ have it out for Ben, after all.

He ventured into the guest room—Ben's room—where the television was perched precariously next to a stack of DVDs and a model plane. "All right, let's see how they're turning this into a story."

But he didn't see what he'd expected; Ben's car surrounded by caution tape, maybe a couple of newscasters discussing the irony of the great Ben Gates finally being brought down by a mere traffic violation. The first thing he saw wasn't Ben at all. It was Abigail.

"...for those of you just tuning in, well-respected historian and Archives official Abigail Chase was reported missing earlier today. The primary suspect at this time is her estranged boyfriend, renowned treasure hunter Ben Gates..."

Only Riley's deeply ingrained respect for technology kept him from throwing something at the set. "Are you _kidding_ me?" His first thought was the worst—he'd told Abigail to leave them alone, so she'd decided to take that a little too far.

No... no. _Think! _He was pretty sure she didn't _hate_ Ben, alarm codes aside. Asking to help with his treasure hunt wasn't exactly a declaration of eternal enmity, and all. Besides, Abigail was an avowed workaholic, nearly as much as Ben himself. She wouldn't drop everything and disappear out of spite. So it had to be something else.

He turned the television off; the reporters were annoying him. The internet was the only serious news source anyway. Apparently this was breaking news, so he got far more speculation than information, but it seemed they'd found Ben's fingerprints at the scene of the crime.

Scene of what crime? There were signs of a struggle. She'd been abducted at her home.

_...Of course his fingerprints were there! He used to live there! _But no, that wasn't it. Riley knew how obsessive Abigail was about keeping the place clean—there would be no fingerprints left from when Ben was living with her. He knew it, the cops didn't, so he still felt their investigation had been pretty lousy. That was reinforced when he finally figured out why Patrick was in prison as well.

Apparently, claiming "He's been with me all this time" when you couldn't prove you'd been home all that time wasn't a sufficient alibi. At least, not when your name was Gates.

The whole thing seemed odd. But figuring it out wasn't his problem. Fixing it was.

--

Abigail awoke to two low voices conversing somewhere nearby. More or less reflexively, she strained to make out the words, but quickly realized they weren't English or German and gave up. That was about when she realized that something was very wrong. Never mind that the voices weren't speaking English, why were there voices at all? She'd just woken up. She should be alone.

Attempting to move brought her crashing cold and hard into reality. She was tied up... somewhere... all she learned from opening her eyes was that it was pitch black. Also, she seemed to be gagged, and was starting to realize that the low hum of an engine was running through the floor.

Yes, she was definitely in trouble.

Hazy memories were coming back to her now. A man waiting at her door, a cloth pressed against her face, and an unpleasant odor. Then nothing. _Drugged, then_. At least that explained why her brain was being so sluggish. Didn't give her any clue how to get out of this mess, though.

Who would want to kidnap her, anyway? ...Okay, dumb question. Drugs' fault. She brushed that off and tried to refocus. No doubt she was being held for ransom, which meant her kidnappers weren't really up on current events... or they just figured Ben wouldn't refuse, breakup or no.

Well, she was not _about_ to rely on Ben to get her out of this. Though she had no doubt he'd try... which was just fine. It was good to have a backup plan. In the meantime, it was time to start making her captors wish they'd left her alone. Mustering all her strength, she kicked against whatever was restraining her legs.

The good news was, it snapped. The bad news was, it also made a lot of noise.

Almost immediately the conversation ceased, and a blinding shaft of light split the darkness to her left. "Awake already, Dr. Chase?" The voice was soft and feminine, with an accent she couldn't quite place. So basically nothing American or German. "I apologize for this inconvenience, but it is quite necessary... I will explain when we land."

_Land?_ She didn't have time to worry about it. Her flailing kick missed her captor, the same smell as before drifted in front of her, and she returned to the darkness.

--

Bureaucracy sucked.

Three secretaries and three suspicious junior agents after entering the building, Riley finally found himself standing in Peter Sadusky's office. And from the last agent's comments, he'd gotten off easily. Something about the boss hearing he was there and wanting to see him ASAP. Which... okay, he wasn't sure he liked that. It was one thing to storm into FBI headquarters insistent on seeing a section chief, and quite another to be summoned into the chief's presence.

Sadusky gave him a nod of greeting. "Afternoon, Mr. Poole. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Tell your goons that no matter how much they don't like him, Ben hasn't kidnapped anyone recently?"

Once he'd said it, he decided maybe _goons_ had been a bad word to use. _Calm down_. He was well aware he had a tendency to get hostile, very quickly, when annoyed and alone with a near-stranger, and he needed to lock it down now. Ticking off the feds wasn't going to help anything.

At least Sadusky didn't look angry. Actually, he was wearing the same inscrutable look he _always_ seemed to be wearing when Riley saw him. "I thought you might say something like that when you got here. Though I didn't expect you quite so soon."

That wasn't something Riley particularly wanted to hear. "You've been expecting me?"

Sadusky just gave him that irritating inscrutable smile. Then he leaned forward. "So, do you like ducks as much as Ben does?"

_Ducks? I didn't know Ben liked ducks._ "What do ducks have to do with anything?"

"They're outside," the agent answered simply.

Comprehension dawned. "Um, yeah. I love ducks. I watch them on ESPN sometimes." That got a chuckle out of the other man, at least. Progress.

Duck-watching lasted all of twenty seconds once they actually reached water. "So you think I have a vendetta against Ben, is that it?" Riley decided he didn't want to answer that question, and if pressed, would take the fifth and see where that got him. Sadusky didn't press. Instead, he shook his head and looked out over the water. "Quite the opposite. I consider him a friend. Which is why you were able to speak to me at all, by the way."

"Oh." Riley took a moment to reshape his mental image of the agent, felt his brain fizzling from overload, and decided he'd get to it later. Ben and Sadusky, friends? That seemed counterintuitive, like him and Ian going out for pizza, or something.

_Whatever happened to Ian, anyway?_

He shook that off and returned to the matter at hand. Sadusky was talking again. "He's stubborn, unpredictable, and sometimes infuriating, but nothing about Dr. Chase's disappearance adds up. No motive besides the obvious, and Ben doesn't seem, to me, the type to hold grudges."

"He's not."

"There you have it, then." The agent shrugged. "I've seen the casework; I won't lie, it's rather sloppy. It wouldn't convince me even if I _didn't_ know the suspect. But there is evidence. The law is the law, you understand."

Riley understood a lot more about the law than he cared to bring up. Namely, its flexibility under certain circumstances. Like treasure hunts. Or family tragedies. What he said was, "Yeah, sure. You're FBI, standing here telling me the case is bad, and yet Ben's in prison. Without bail, by the way."

Sadusky arched an eyebrow. "Would _you_ offer Ben Gates bail?"

"...Okay, point taken." Ben's picture was in the dictionary next to 'flight risk', after all. "But still, if you think the case is so weak. He's not going to go anywhere if he knows he's innocent."

"Logic says one thing, history says another. And Ben has such an appreciation for history, I'm sure he'd understand. It isn't how I would've done it... but the kidnapping of private citizens doesn't fall in my domain. It isn't my case."

Sapphire eyes flashed with disbelief. "What?"

"It's not my case," Sadusky repeated. "I've told you what I can. Consider it a favor to a friend. But that's all I can do."

_Dead end._ He'd come ready to argue for Ben's innocence; the new information threw him off. He knew that Sadusky was at least reasonable. He knew no such thing about... whoever was actually in charge of the case. And that meant he might have to resort to more drastic measures. "Well... thanks." No reason to hang around here anymore. He turned to go.

"Riley."

He stopped. "Yeah?"

"Don't worry about Ben; the legal system will do its job. Don't do anything foolish."

_Great, he reads minds too_. "Foolish? Me? Don't be silly."

There was nothing foolish about felonies. He'd committed a few before.


	8. Desperate Measures

**Vault of the Oracle  
Chapter 8: Desperate Measures**

_A/N- And so ends my spring break productivity. Back to real life. Writing fanfiction doesn't count for English credit... sob. But I promise I'll have Ben out of jail as soon as possible.  
Thanks to all who've reviewed, and enjoy!_

* * *

The next time Abigail woke up was much more comfortable than the first. She was actually lying on a bed, for one thing. Briefly she entertained the idea that she'd dreamed the earlier incident, but opening her eyes and noting the unfamiliar surroundings shot that down quickly. She wasn't tied up anymore, though... that was one plus.

Trying to stand was harder than it ought to have been. Her head started spinning in protest immediately, and a splitting pain shot through her skull. Aftereffects from being drugged, she assumed. She _hoped_.

A quick inspection told her very little. The furniture was the sort of generic style found in hotels, but looked a bit too high-quality for this to actually be a hotel. That or it was a really good hotel. Unlikely, she decided, because there were no windows. There _was_ an attached bathroom, which was fortunate; an inspection in the mirror told her about what she already knew. Her reflection looked rather disheveled, but unmarked and uninjured.

The door which presumably led out of the room was locked. Not that she'd really expected otherwise.

A bedside table held a pitcher of water, a glass, and a note. The handwriting was painstakingly neat. _Drink, you'll need to recover from the anesthetic_. Right. She was thirsty, but she wasn't stupid... ignoring the pitcher, she filled the glass in the bathroom sink and gulped the water down. The headache improved, a little bit. That was something.

According to her watch, it was just a little before noon. She'd been returning from an evening meeting when they'd taken her, so she'd been out for quite some time. Ouch.

...Wait...

According to her watch?

They hadn't taken her watch, though it was a fairly expensive piece. She checked; the kidnappers hadn't touched her earrings, either. Needless to say, it made no sense to hold someone for ransom and not take their jewelry. Truthfully, the more she looked around, the less likely the ransom idea got. Whoever lived in this place didn't need ransom money.

That made their motives downright mystifying. Politics? The voices she'd heard first hadn't been speaking English... international espionage? Abigail laughed a little at that idea. The situation was odd, yes, but there was no need to be ridiculous about it.

_Less speculation, more action_. She picked up the note, folded it a few times, and slid it between the door and the wall. Doubtful this would work, but she didn't exactly have any better lock picking tools...

The door opened. "Awake at least, Dr. Chase? Excellent."

--

Ben was pacing the cell, unable to calm down despite his dad's repeated requests. They'd placed them together, which was something. He hadn't really expected that... though he wasn't sure the officers were quite sure what to do with them. The crime itself, according to one of the guards, wasn't worth the security level they were under.

The fact that he was Ben Gates, on the other hand...

Fame really did have its downsides. But in all honesty, being locked up wasn't what bothered Ben the most.

"Who could've taken her?" he hissed for the fifth time in the last hour. It was incredibly frustrating. He knew for a fact he hadn't kidnapped Abigail. Any other crime, he could've handled waiting for it to be sorted out. But a kidnapping... if he hadn't abducted his old girlfriend, who had? Was she alright? How in the world would law enforcement find her, operating on the very flawed premise they'd gone in with? She could be anywhere by now.

Patrick had stopped answering him, accepting that Ben would have to talk himself out of his mood. In a way, he wished Riley were here; the kid was good at distracting him. On the other hand, he certainly didn't want Riley in prison, any more than he wanted his father or himself in prison.

It would all work out. It had to. But would it be too late? He stopped walking and clenched his fists. Only the knowledge that he was innocent was keeping him sane right now, and that was fraying. "There's got to be some way this could be worse. Right?"

"Oh, sure." Patrick looked up from studying the concrete floor. "Your mother could decide tomorrow's the one day a month that she'll actually pay attention to current news, and come to give us a lecture."

He had a point, though not the way he thought he did. Emily _didn't_ really read the papers, so maybe she wouldn't find out. The least he could do, if he was going to be falsely accused of a crime, was not worry his mother.

--

Abigail tensed, ready to either punch the man in front of her or dart past him, whichever opened up first. By contrast, he looked quite relaxed. She sized him up. Probably in his thirties, dark hair, average build, wearing a suit. She rather doubted anyone looking for a struggle would be wearing a suit. Then she remembered Ben's theft of the Declaration of Independence.

Though he hadn't really been _looking_ for a struggle there.

He gave a stiff bow. "I am Elias, and I am at your service. If you are well enough to be up and about, please come with me. I'm certain you have many questions." From his careful, slightly slow speech, she assumed English wasn't his first language—perhaps he'd been one of the voices she had heard before. In fact, he looked similar to the man who'd been waiting at her house, though she hadn't gotten a good look there. For obvious reasons.

Somehow, getting kidnapped and treated politely was a lot worse than if he'd told her to go back in before he tied her up again. "How about you answer some questions before I go anywhere?" she suggested, eyes narrowed.

Elias gave a shrug that was almost apologetic. "I am afraid I can't give you any answers. If you'll follow, my employer will explain everything."

It occurred to Abigail that if she followed, she had a much better chance of finding a way out—or barring that, at least getting some sense of where she was. So she nodded. "All right, lead on."

He bowed again. That would get annoying really quickly... his demeanor would've been comical, really, except that he seemed completely sincere. If this was an act, he was an awfully good actor. If it was a mockery, she wasn't amused. But taking him at face value might be a good way to start out. She trailed him down a hallway painted pale gray and covered in paintings depicting mythological scenes. Not her area of expertise, but she couldn't help admiring the work. Elias didn't try to direct her attention anywhere else.

This wasn't what hostage situations were supposed to be like. It really wasn't.

The hallway ended in a long spiraling staircase, and it was there Abigail got her first look out a window. She stopped walking.

_It's almost dark._

"Is something wrong, Dr. Chase?"

She looked back at her watch. Definitely working. Definitely noon. She opened her mouth to say something about that, then shut it again. First, he wouldn't answer her. Second, everything was starting to make sense now. A little. "Other than being a hostage? Nothing."

Apparently he had no good answer to that, so he just kept walking.

Abigail took careful note of the surroundings as she followed. Nothing that resembled a way _out_ had shown itself thus far, but from the scale of the place, that didn't really surprise her. If she'd had any lingering suspicions about ransom, they were gone now. It had to be something else... and that was more than a little worrisome.

"In here," Elias commented, opening a door and turning to her. He bowed again. Irritating.

'In here' was probably a sun room, though there wasn't any sun to speak of at the moment. Abigail glanced at her watch again, more out of habit than because she expected to learn something useful. _I will explain when we land. _The question was not how far away they'd taken her, but what _country_ she'd wound up in. The architecture struck her as somewhat Byzantine, which didn't much narrow it down.

A woman was standing there staring out a window, and looked up, seeming briefly startled. _What, wasn't she expecting me? This is getting stranger and stranger_. Her hair was a shade darker than her servant's, and her eyes were piercing green. She smiled. "Ah, Dr. Chase." Abigail immediately recognized her voice. "I do sincerely apologize for this inconvenience. Sit, please."

That instruction was bizarre enough to not be worth arguing. So Abigail sat on the nearest couch, glanced back and noted that Elias was gone, and returned her full attention to her other captor. "So let me get this straight. You drug me, tie me up, transport me through several time zones, and now you're apologizing for the inconvenience."

"Yes," she agreed with a slight frown, "that's about what it comes down to."

"Then you'll understand if I'm not really taking the apology seriously."

The woman sighed. "I understand, of course. But it is offered in all seriousness. This is not how I'd have preferred we meet, but the matter was quite urgent. So here you are." She crossed the room and sat in a delicately carved chair, her eyes locking on Abigail. "My name is Selene, and I welcome you to Silvermoon Manor. I hope that, despite the circumstances of your presence, you are at least comfortable."

Abigail scowled at her. Yes, the accommodations were fine, but that was not the primary topic here.

To her credit, Selene picked up on her expression nicely. "Very well. It is answers you want, and answers you shall have." Her eyes narrowed. "Documents were recently uncovered hinting at a hidden cache of artifacts from the oracle of Delphi. Those who made the discovery have enlisted the aid of the greatest treasure hunter in the world—your former boyfriend—to locate the vault itself. He must not succeed. This is a desperate measure, no doubt, but quite necessary."

_Ben's doing what? _Abigail hesitated. When she'd met Riley in the Library of Congress, he'd been carrying a book about Crete. Now that made sense, at least. Actually, now a lot of things made sense. But something wasn't adding up. "You kidnapped me because Ben's looking for another treasure? Why would you do that if you know he's my _former_ boyfriend?"

Shrug. "Simply put, we framed him for your disappearance. And if you are willing to testify that he was the one who abducted you, we will return you to Washington with all haste."

"You want me to _what?"_ she repeated, briefly wondering if she'd heard correctly. "You want me to lie under oath to get Ben thrown in jail, just so the people who kidnapped me can find a treasure before he gets—"

"No," Selene cut her off, looking slightly flustered. "_We_ are not looking for the vault. And kindly stop referring to it as a 'treasure', it was not hidden away for its value. The oracle, a direct conduit to the gods, would have been presented with great riches... but also items of great danger. It is best for all that they be left alone and forgotten. My duty is to keep these artifacts from being discovered, by any means."

Abigail stared at the woman, reassessing. She was well-spoken, clearly intelligent, clearly rich. And clearly crazy. "Items of great danger? You mean cursed?"

"That is close enough."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I am not." Selene sighed. "Do not misunderstand; your reaction does not surprise me. It is quite unfair that you must be inconvenienced by his stubbornness, but so be it. You will be well taken care of during your stay here... but if you will not assist me in this matter, I'm afraid I cannot let you leave."

--

Riley sat back and scowled at his computer screen, which he seemed to do a lot. He didn't like what it was telling him at all. It wasn't really the machine's fault (it never was), but he kept glaring at it anyway. "That's a letdown, circuit-brain. A big letdown."

No bail. No trial set. Visitors were allowed, but Riley didn't want to visit... didn't want to give anyone the chance to recognize him. That would make things much easier later. The investigators, realizing the scale of this case, were being very obliging about getting in front of cameras and spouting off, but not so helpful about giving useful information.

What would he _do_ with useful information, anyway?

It was just a simple prison break. Stealing the Declaration, hacking Buckingham Palace, those had been much higher risk. So why was he so worried?

_There's always a way_. Ben had taught him that. The problem was, it took someone as crazy and brilliant as Ben to see it. Besides, even if Riley came up with a plan, it wasn't likely to be something he could carry out by himself. He was a hacker, the guide, the coordinator. What good was he without someone on the inside?

_There has to be a way!_

Ben, obviously, could not help break himself out of prison. Patrick either. And if he knew where Abigail was, he'd be kidnapping her himself and dumping her on the feds' front door, not worrying about springing his friend from jail. That left him with nothing.

...No... that left him with one. One other that he'd stood beside and stared death, if not prison, in the eye. Who might be able to help him, or at least, probably wouldn't turn him over to the cops just for asking. But still._ I'm really not that desperate._

_Am I?_

Yes. Yes he was.


	9. On Second Thought

**Vault of the Oracle**

Chapter 9: On Second Thought...

* * *

Office hours had been over for about fifteen minutes when the knock came. Usually, Emily would've simply declared that the office was closed and gone about her business. 'Usually' meaning 'before'. The whole _gun, abduction, trip to South Dakota _fiasco had made her a little paranoid. Surely she couldn't be blamed for that... she looked up.

Either kidnappers were starting awfully young these days, or she was looking at a lost student. "Can I help you find s..." His brilliant blue eyes locked on hers and recognition struck.

In fairness, he'd been a bit of a mess the last time she'd seen him.

"Riley! Sweetie! So good to see you again!" She'd have hugged him, her usual treatment for Ben and his friends, but the way he grimaced at the word 'sweetie' changed her mind. He looked nervous. From all she'd heard, nervous wasn't too unusual for him, but showing it was. Also, he didn't like strangers.

Surely she wasn't a stranger? He'd gone to such trouble to be sure they'd officially met.

"Um, hi." He stepped in and shouldered the door closed. "How've you been?"

"Not bad at all, quite busy. Yourself?" The frown that followed this answered more eloquently than any words could've. "Is something wrong?" No doubt he hadn't just dropped by to make small talk, in any case.

Nervousness was giving way to confusion, and then shifted back to nervousness. But he kept his tone light. "Been watching the news?"

No, no she hadn't. Generally she didn't have time. But the question gave her a pretty good sense of why he was there. "What's he done now?" _Honestly_. If Ben had gone off on another crime spree... though that would also mean... oh dear. "Not another treasure hunt."

"Well, he's looking for a treasure." He looked distinctly uncomfortable now. "But it's not really about a treasure hunt, no... you, uh, don't keep any newspapers around here?"

"No, I'm afraid not." She gestured to a chair. "Why don't you have a seat? You look awfully jumpy."

"Yeah, well..." He shrugged and flopped back into the chair. "I wasn't really planning to have to explain this." So much for her guess as to why he was there—she'd assumed he _had_ come to explain it. So that left what, exactly? She motioned for him to continue. "Ben hasn't done anything. That's the problem. He's in jail anyway. They arrested him for kidnapping Abigail, and I know for certain he didn't."

_Oh_. Emily fell silent. Kidnapping Abigail? That was about the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. Kidnapping the President she hadn't been too surprised about. But unless Abigail had a treasure map hidden somewhere, which she doubted, it just didn't make any sense. Yes, they had a rather temperamental relationship, but Ben was used to dealing with disappointment. A good thing, considering how much of it he'd gone through. He just wouldn't do something like that.

Yet he was in prison for it?

Riley had been silent, letting all this sink in. _I know for certain he didn't_. "You can't... tell the police that it wasn't him? Surely they've asked?"

"Oh, they've asked. They," he adopted a haughty falsetto, "didn't find my testimony convincing." He rolled his eyes and returned to his normal voice. "Just because I know the guy can't even get by an alarm system without me... oh, and if he took Abigail, where'd he put her? He's living in my guest room, for God's sake, I'm pretty sure I'd notice if he had an ex-girlfriend locked up in a closet."

At least he seemed to be warming up a bit. But Emily hadn't forgotten that he was here for something else, and now she was curious. "Why are you here then, if you assumed I already knew Ben was in prison? Does he need something?" He winced. "Not that I mind seeing you," she added quickly, "but this is unusual."

"Yeah." Shrug. "He needs something, yeah. He needs to not be locked up for something he didn't do."

"Oh, I agree. I'm sure it will all work out soon."

"I'm not. Someone's framing him. That's not just going to work itself out."

They stared at each other. Suddenly, Emily was struck by a sense of unease, as though she ought to know where this was going. As though she ought to not _like_ where this was going. In fact, she was pretty sure she did know, but wasn't quite willing to admit it. Not just yet.

"How would you prove he's innocent? You'd have to find Abigail..." Not unlike Ben's reasons for finding Cibola, really. Except that there was no treasure map this time. And of course, Ben wasn't there to find it.

Riley's thoughts seemed to mirror hers. "Ben's good at finding stuff that's lost."

"But he can hardly find her from prison."

"Exactly."

Yes, that was about where she'd been hoping it wouldn't go. "Surely you aren't thinking—"

"No, I'm not thinking. Hurry up and agree to help before I start, would you?"

Emily sat back and closed her eyes, feeling a headache beginning to creep up. Okay, so Riley was here asking his best friend's mother to help break her son out of prison. Even _thinking_ it sounded ludicrous. But there he sat, seemingly dead serious. And perhaps, for him, it wasn't crazy.

She knew, of course, that Ben had made a life of crime—in his own noble manner. She was also pretty certain he'd gotten the felony gene from his _father_. But Riley had been with her son throughout all his less-than-legal escapades, so presumably he knew what was needed. He'd come to her, not Patrick.

Which didn't change the fact that she wouldn't know the first thing about breaking someone out of prison, nor did it sound like a particularly pleasant way to spend an afternoon. Surely this was an overreaction.

_What if it isn't?_

Movement in front of her made her open her eyes. Riley was standing now, digging a small slip of paper from his jacket pocket. "Here." There was a phone number scrawled on it in barely-legible handwriting. "Think on it, at least... it's not as urgent as, say, stealing the Declaration of Independence. But the sooner the better." He turned to go.

Something in his tone told her the rest. He was going. With or without her, he was going to get Ben out, or at least try to. How would he manage alone? Not that she knew how he'd do it _with_ her help, but still...

It hadn't been so long ago that she'd watched someone else walk out of her office, uncomfortable, rejected. Riley hadn't earned the rant on sacrifice Patrick had, at least. No... he wasn't here to compare sacrifices, only to ask her to share his.

Emily looked at the small hummingbird figurine on her desk. She'd overheard students claiming that small decoration was the only sign they'd ever seen that she was human. Usually she found that irritating. Now it amused her, slightly. If any of her students could overhear this discussion, they'd swear Dr. Appleton had gone crazy. They might be right.

"Riley, wait."

He turned, and his eyes drilled into her like a plea. _Or maybe a challenge?_ Maybe he was thinking about hummingbirds too. Probably not.

"What do you need me to do?"

--

Despite herself, Abigail was impressed by how thorough her kidnappers had been.

Selene didn't like the term 'kidnappers', though she admitted it was accurate. She preferred to refer to Abigail as a guest, which she supposed would make 'hosts' more accurate. But this really didn't seem like the time for semantics.

Silvermoon Manor was a big place, and she'd been given free run of the guest wing. As places to be held hostage went, it wasn't too bad. A thorough investigation had told her all she really needed to know... she was on the third floor, the few windows didn't open anyway, and there were no lines of communication to the outside world anywhere in the wing, which was separated from the rest of the building by a door that was kept locked at all times.

Even if she could get out, of course, her problems would be just beginning, considering her knowledge of Greek was limited to _geia sas._ And she didn't even know what that really meant, only that Selene kept greeting her with it. Maybe it meant "Are you done being stubborn yet?"

Abigail _had_ reconsidered the deal the other woman had offered. Briefly. Just long enough to feel guilty about it, actually. Even if she were that annoyed with Ben—and she certainly wasn't—she had no interest in lying about what had actually happened, never mind the legal ramifications. There had to be some way out of this. She could be patient. She could find it.

Hopefully.

As promised, she was being quite well taken care of, and her captors had clearly thought ahead—considering how many times she needed to travel at a moment's notice, Abigail had started to just keep a packed suitcase in a downstairs closet. She'd found that suitcase sitting in her room here. Convenient, at least. If it weren't for the fact that she couldn't leave the building, this could've been an excellent vacation.

_What's Ben doing now?_

Probably sitting in a jail cell, obviously. But beyond that, she couldn't imagine. Ben was physically incapable of sitting back and waiting, and was probably frantic now. Looking for a way out. Looking for a way to find her... worrying? Probably.

She frowned and sat back on the bed. _I wonder if Riley told him what he told me? _Unlikely. Riley guarded his privacy more fiercely than anyone she'd ever met. She could expect no assistance from that end. But at least, if Ben was stuck in prison being angry at the situation, he wouldn't be blaming her. It kind of surprised her that she'd still worry about that. But how could she not? She didn't hate him.

Just how he acted sometimes. Okay, a lot of times.

Suddenly, though, his assumptions didn't seem like such a bad thing to deal with. She laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Selene was doing all she could to be accommodating, yet every word out of the Greek woman's mouth made Abigail miss Ben that much more.

But perhaps Riley was right. Perhaps she'd run out of second chances.

--

The storage attendant hadn't asked questions, but he'd definitely wanted to. Riley could hardly blame him. It wasn't every day someone opted to put their shiny red Ferrari in a garage in favor of a beat-up old van.

It was a very depressing necessity, but necessity nonetheless. The car would be just a little bit conspicuous for what was about to go down.

Emily was skeptical. Well, skeptical might have been an understatement. He was pretty sure Emily was already wondering why she'd ever agreed to this. On the plus side, she'd actually taken some vacation time, which meant she was serious.

The big shock had been their first attempt at talking business, when he'd started to explain the way these operations usually worked.

"I'll hack their network and do all the work from that end. You'll have to go in..."

"Like when you and Ben stole the Declaration?"

"Yeah, pretty m—wait, how'd you know that?"

Emily gave him a look as if it should be obvious. "You wrote about it in your book."

Of course. How silly of him.

So now they were seated on a bench in Stanton Park, because Riley flatly refused to go to the Library of Congress before committing a crime ever again. It wasn't like they had to look up anything before going, anyway. He had a plan, he thought. Not exactly a pretty plan—if Ben were doing it, there'd be a lot more finesse involved. On the other hand, it would also be twice as slow and three times as risky. Riley would take that trade.

"Don't get any wrong ideas from the book. That was a Ben plan. This is a Riley plan, it's gonna be quick and messy."

Emily gave him a worried look. "Nobody's going to get hurt, are they?"

"Shouldn't. Maybe a few egos. Or Eggos. Let's stop waffling." He grinned when her expression went from worried to confused. By the time they were done here, either she would be used to his sense of humor, or she'd want to strangle him. "Here." He reached into his backpack and held up one of the transmitters than he and Ben had always put to such good use. "You stick this in your ear, and I can hear what's going on, as well as talk to you."

"And I can speak to you also?"

"Welllll..." He shrugged and leaned back. "I can hear you if you talk to me, yeah. I don't suggest doing that if there's other people around. Remember, we're trying to get you into a prison, not a psych ward."

She raised an eyebrow. He ignored it.

"There's got to be some sort of security, surely they won't just let me walk in wearing that."

"You'd be surprised." Another shrug. "If anyone asks, just tell them it's a hearing aid."

Emily hesitated. "You want me to lie to them?"

_Oy vey_. For a minute they just stared at each other, and it was all Riley could do not to reconsider. All right, so it probably wasn't her fault. Actually, she reminded him of himself before the Declaration theft, albeit with a completely different set of concerns. Still... finally he sighed and shook his head. "Really?" His tone was equal parts exasperation and amusement. "We're talking about a jailbreak, and we're going to get hung up on _lying_ to the cops?"

"Well... yes... I don't do this often, you know!"

"Fair enough." He winked. "Don't think of it as lying. It's aiding you in hearing me, right? Voila, hearing aid."

Yeah, she was definitely regretting this. Oh well.


	10. Liberation

**Vault of the Oracle  
Chapter 10: Liberation**

_A/N- It's been a really long time. But there's two chapters. They even out, right?  
As always, many thanks for the reviews, and enjoy the chapters!

* * *

_

It always amazed Riley how quickly time passed when there was a crime looming in the distance. In this case, a week seemed to go by in about five minutes. Maybe ten, but that was being generous. Then it was time.

Finally.

He hadn't talked to Ben. Keeping secrets wasn't really one of Riley's stronger points, so he'd decided to be safe and just stay out of contact altogether. If he'd wanted to, he could've driven himself crazy wondering if Ben was bothered by that fact, or if he was too busy worrying about Abigail to care, or...

_Cut that out, sheesh_.

Coming up to a red light—his map told him it ought to be the _last_ red light—he leaned back in the driver's seat and glanced at his passenger. "Ready?"

"I think so." Emily was doing an admirable job of not sounding nervous, which she promptly ruined by adding, "Are you sure this will work?"

"Do you want reassurance, or the truth?" he answered reflexively, then decided from her grimace that was probably the wrong answer. _Oops_. Intellectually, he was well aware he couldn't banter with Ben's mom the way he could with Ben. It was just that his mouth hadn't caught on yet. And probably never would, but oh well. "Relax. This stuff's pretty basic."

"That's easy for you to say."

_You have no idea_. "Yeah, pretty much." The light turned. "But I'm not worried," he continued as the van lurched forward. "Ben had to have gotten it from somewhere, right?"

"His _father_."

Riley grinned. "Uh huh. His dad can't even use a cell phone!"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing, really. You're not supposed to point that out."

--

Nobody asked questions about why she had a transmitter in her ear. Riley had been right. Strangely, that made Emily feel much better. A part of her was still not convinced—even as she followed a guard down the stark gray corridors—that she was actually here to break her son out of prison. She'd visit, assure him everything would be okay, and be going.

Riley was a bit difficult to take seriously and that was part of her problem. His being right on that one small detail somehow made the whole thing more real.

"In here," the guard instructed, opening a door and waving her into a tiny, unwelcoming room. The only thing that convinced her it wasn't a cell was the clean but well-worn couch in one corner. "You've got twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes. Indeed. Ben was there already, seated on a rickety chair next to... _oh dear_.

"Patrick?"

"Oh." Riley didn't sound the least bit surprised. "Did I forget to mention they arrested him too?"

Emily made a mental note to never help Riley again. Or at least, without demanding full details first.

As he had always been so good at doing, Ben barged into the uneasy silence that had just opened up. "So I guess you had some free time to read the papers, huh?"

"Not really. I heard about the arrest from a... ah... an acquaintance."

She could hear Riley snickering through the transmitter. "You know, 'friend' would've worked," he suggested, undoubtedly well aware that she couldn't answer.

"Oh. Well, tell them thanks very much." Ben's tone made it clear he hadn't wanted her to find out about his arrest in the first place. Somehow, it was hard to be surprised by that. "But it's just a mistake, it'll get cleared up. I really didn't do anything this time."

"This time," Riley muttered.

"This time," Emily repeated at the same moment.

Ben sighed. "Yeah, that's been the general reaction."

She was pointedly ignoring Patrick, because to do anything else would be horribly awkward. Of course, it was going to be awkward no matter what. Fortunately, he didn't seem any more comfortable with the situation, so she could try to pretend he wasn't there and focus on her real reason for being here.

Which was... ugh, maybe talking to Patrick would be better.

Riley had given her a code phrase of sorts, something innocuous to say so Ben would know what was going on. Innocuous the comment was, but how she was meant to work it into casual conversation was quite beyond her. Maybe something would come up. "Have they been treating you alright? You aren't hurt, are you?"

"No, no. Charming place really." Ben gestured expansively to the ratty couch, bare concrete walls, one feeble light bulb hanging from the ceiling. _And this is the visiting area_. "The food's not even bad, by prison standards." He blinked. "Not that I'd know, uh, from experience."

"Of course not."

They'd used up five minutes already and Emily really, very badly wanted to get this over with, but she had no idea what to say. So the room became silent again, the only sounds a low hum of ventilation and the flickering of the light.

_Wait a second_...

She looked up and studied the dim bulb as it gave a particularly loud pop. "You know," she offered in what was hopefully an off-hand tone, "I heard not long ago that it took Edison two thousand tries to find the one way to make a light bulb work."

Patrick mumbled something that was either an agreement or a correction, she wasn't really paying attention as Ben's head shot up. _Well_. _I'd say the message got through_. He gave her a sharp look. "Mom...?"

"Smooth," Riley complimented, and then all hell broke loose.

Alarms seemed to be shrieking from every corner of the room, maybe every corner of the building. Ben was standing, eyes darting around briefly, and Patrick was pacing about and muttering "What's happening _now_?"

"Riley's happening," his son replied immediately, "calm down. The alarms are coming from the other side of the building." How in the world he realized that was beyond Emily, but that was the plan, so she nodded in agreement. "If they suspect a security breach they'll lock the entire facility down."

He'd barely finished speaking when a guard opened the door and stuck his head in. "We have a breakout in B Wing. You are not in any danger, but I'm going to have to ask you to remain here until the all-clear is given. Congratulations, you'll be having a longer visit." Then he was gone.

"You don't know the half of it," Ben informed the closed door. Then he turned around and shook his head, looking highly amused. "Riley, did you remember to bring the key?"

Emily had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but Riley immediately responded with "Duh," so she relayed that. Sort of. "He says of course he did."

"Good." Ben was frowning now, the look he always got when his brain was working faster than any of theirs could hope to. "We're going to need that..."

He kept musing on their next step, but Riley cut in over the transmitter. "Okay, it looks clear, as much as it's gonna get. Phase two begins in three, two, now!"

Emily heard him, but the words didn't entirely have time to sink in before the room was plunged into darkness. The room, and—she knew—the rest of the prison. There was shouting from the hallways outside, and Patrick was yelling something, but nothing mattered except it was dark, dark, _dark_, and she was frozen, blinded, drifting in blackness with no frame of reference. Nothing. This wouldn't work. It couldn't work...

"Emily? Emily! You still there? Emily, listen to me!"

It took her a moment to recognize the voice shouting in her ear. Riley had suddenly gone sharp, confident, commanding. Trying to control her breathing, she seized on his words like a beacon. "I'm here. The lights are out."

"Naturally," he answered as if she'd just paid him a compliment. She supposed, in a way, she had. "Okay, drag Ben along with you. Let him guide Patrick if touching your ex is too icky." Emily snorted. _Now_ he sounded like Riley again.

"Come on." When her hand found Ben's, he seemed perfectly calm. Patrick's palms were sweaty. "We're going... ah, Riley, where are we going?"

"Well, the door's a good start." She turned and groped for the door's handle. Found it. _Click_.

"It's locked."

There was a low buzz. "Not anymore. Turn left once you're out." She nodded, for no good reason at all, and started down the hallway. Or what she assumed must be the hallway. "Keep going... keep going... stop!"

Emily stopped. Ben stopped. Patrick stumbled and ran into her, and she fell forward against something cold and metal. "Oof!"

"I told you to stop," Riley mumbled. "Security gate. Working on it." He'd barely finished speaking when there was a faint clatter and a sound of shifting gears. "It's not open very far. Go around the, uh..."

"Over here." Ben tugged on Emily's hand. "Sounded like it opened on this side."

Well. If she hadn't felt out of her depth this entire time, that would have done it. But she wasn't about to argue; this was Ben's specialty, after all. "Okay, we're past the gate. Now what?"

"Keep going straight."

She really didn't feel like the walk in had taken so long. Then again, every step through the pitch darkness seemed to take forever. "Riley, are you sure—"

"You're doing great." A moment's pause. "Okay, turn right before you smash your face again and you should see the exit sign."

Sure enough, there it was. A glowing red sign that might as well have been in Marrakech with her toothbrushes, for all the good it did. _That far? _They could be there for hours. But she steeled herself. _Won't get there if we don't start_.

The sign disappeared.

"...Riley, that wasn't funny."

"Huh? What wasn't?"

"Turning off the exit sign."

There was a brief pause. "Uh. I... didn't do anything to the signs. I can't. Emergency lights, y'know? Totally not on the grid."

Before she could respond to that, she heard a voice from ahead of her. "Hey! Who's there?" At the same time, half the light reappeared, silhouetting a guard's head that was blocking the other side. Emily froze. _Uh oh_. In all the commotion, it had been quite impossible to hear his approach.

"We've got a visitor having a panic attack." Ben gave her hand a significant squeeze. _Just play along_. But really, a panic attack? She thought she'd been handling herself quite well, under the circumstances. "Just taking her outside."

"Right, go ahead." The guard sounded preoccupied. "It's alright, ma'am."

"Inspired," Riley commented, relief clear in his voice. "There's a second set of doors right after the first, and you'll be home free."

Emily really doubted that, but as it turned out, he was right. Bursting out the door into the sunlight was, at that moment, every bit as glorious as exiting the flooded depths of Cibola.

--

The van was waiting, Riley leaning out the window watching for them. Ben threw open one of the sliding doors and herded everyone inside, then took the seat in front and glanced over at his partner in crime. Literally... usually.

"Riley, did you seriously get my mother to help you pull off a prison break?"

"Oy. Sit down, buckle up, shut up." Riley grinned at him, then shrugged. "It was kind of the only thing I could do, short of leaving you in there, and that would just be silly. Besides, she did great."

For a moment, Ben wished he'd stayed in back so he could see his mom's reaction to that, but shrugged it off. "I wasn't worried about _that_. I'm just trying to figure out how you convinced her to go along with it."

"Just my natural charm, I guess." He started the van and shrugged. "So how long do you suppose it'll take them to figure out there's nothing wrong with their electricity?"

"You didn't turn it back on?"

"Nah. More fun that way." He coughed. "Uh, more time to get away, rather. So where are we going?"

"Aren't you the one running this prison break?" Ben looked in the mirror and studied the gutted back of the van. He hadn't seen the interior of the vehicle since the night they'd stolen the Declaration, and it seemed odd without a jumble of equipment in the back. _Plenty of space, at least_.

"Hey." Riley shook his head. "You're out of the prison, aren't you?"

"Granted."

"You mean you don't know what to do now?" Emily spoke up, sounding affronted. "You said you had a plan!"

"I did have a plan: ask Ben." A sharp turn silenced him for a few moments as he concentrated on actually driving. "I can keep us going on the road as long as we need, but I'm assuming there's somewhere more productive we could be trying for."

Indeed there was. "Egypt."

Riley turned to stare at him. "Uh... no."

"Yes. It's where the next key is hidden. Whoever took Abigail and framed me is after the treasure, getting back on the trail ourselves is the only way to find them."

"No," Riley repeated, wheeling around at the next intersection. "That's going to be a disaster. You know that, right?"

"Well, yeah. But it's our only option."

"Right." Riley sighed. "Do you have a miracle to pull out of your sleeve to get us on a plane, I hope? I'm not sure I can tell my GPS to show us the nearest bridge over the Atlantic."

Ben had, in fact, already been considering that. "Mom can buy the tickets. By the time she's a known suspect, we'll be out of the country. Even if we're recognized entering Egypt, I doubt they'd stop us."

"And what passports are we using to get in?" Patrick inquired, one eyebrow raised.

_Oh. I knew I was forgetting something_. "Uh."

"My checklist for this was: get laptop, get key, get your mom, get in trouble. 'Get passport' was definitely _not_ on it." Riley shrugged again. "Think we have time to go grab it?"

_Unlikely_. His mind was racing. Even if they could beat the cops to Riley's apartment, his father's house was out of the question. For that matter, his mother's would be equally impossible; they only had so much time before her involvement got out. _Ugh_.

Given some time, he had no doubt he could come up with a plan to retrieve the documents. There was no time. Every second made it more likely they'd be unable to board a plane. Every moment Abigail was in more danger. _Possibly_._ You don't know that_. But he couldn't afford to stall and take the chance.

"I don't suppose you have a printer for your laptop."

"Not with me."

"Great."

The van was rolling down streets he didn't recognize, but he was willing to trust Riley's judgment on the matter. Not having to worry about that was one less distraction, besides. But he was starting to get the impression the kid wasn't just taking random streets to make them hard to follow.

Sure enough, Riley sighed and looked over at him. "I know what we have to do." His voice dropped. "But I really don't want to."

_Huh?_

Ben opened his mouth to ask precisely that, then shut it. _No. No questions_.

It was a reflex he'd spent the better part of two years beating down. The young tech had raised a thousand questions since they'd met. He'd answered...maybe three of them. And one of the very few things he'd ever really asked of Ben was to let his past stay in the past.

Asking that of Ben Gates? God, it was hard. But Riley was his friend, not a puzzle to be solved.

"If you don't want to do it—"

"I think it's our only choice." Grim determination burned in Riley's eyes. "Just do me a favor and play along."

That last, Ben knew, was directed to his parents and not him. He didn't need to be told to play along. That was pretty much the story of his life.


	11. Honor Among Thieves

**Vault of the Oracle  
Chapter 11: Honor Among Thieves

* * *

**

It was about two hours after the breakout when the battered van pulled up to its destination. Ben cocked his head. _Ralph's 24-Hour Photo Mart_. He was pretty sure Riley had no interest in photography in the best of times, let alone with half the DC law enforcement on their tail. _Okay, what's going on?_

As they clambered out of the van, Ben quickly steered himself next to the tech, and muttered the one thing he'd sworn never to ask. "Riley, what aren't you telling us?"

"Plenty," was the only response he got. Well, it had been worth a try.

A bright-eyed kid behind the counter greeted the quartet as they walked in. "Welcome to Ralph's, can I help you find something?"

Riley had his calmest expression plastered on, which Ben knew meant he was wound tight enough to snap at any moment. "Yeah. Does Trace still work here?"

The clerk's friendly demeanor dropped for an instant, then he was all smiles again. "He's working in the darkroom today. Is it important?"

"Emergency."

"Then I guess you know where to go."

This exchange left Patrick and Emily looking utterly lost, and had Ben remembering a conversation from over a year ago. About running from something. He had a good idea of what was going on now, but it was still a bit nerve-wracking. He was definitely not used to being the observer. _Maybe this is why Abigail gets so annoyed when I keep my plans to myself_.

But Abigail wasn't here...

Riley led them to a door at the back of the shop and rapped on it three times.

"Who's there?" came an immediate snarl from within.

"Take it easy, chief. It's Bill." Riley sounded tired, and didn't notice the look Ben gave him. _Bill?_ _Interesting_. He'd thought that name had come out of nowhere.

"Bill who?" The edge had not gone off.

"Sparks. Do you want rank and serial number, too? Because I skipped my cereal this morning, the milk _was_ pretty rank."

Patrick chuckled. Emily looked confused.

The door opened, revealing a face that was probably around thirty, wearing a shocked scowl. "Bill? The hell? Two years, you drop off the face of the planet, you don't leave any note that you're going, you don't even crack anyone's firewall? I figured the cops finally got you!"

"Not exactly," Riley muttered. "I've been a little preoccupied. Let's leave it at that."

If Trace found this unusual, he didn't show it. "Fair enough. So what're you after? I doubt you brought company just to drop in and say hi..." He trailed off as he looked over the four of them and got a good look at Ben's face. "Wait, man, that's not—"

"He's my friend."

Riley's tone could've frozen magma. Emily nearly jumped out of her skin, and even Patrick looked startled. Ben wasn't surprised, though. He'd seen Riley serious a few times before.

Trace just cocked his head. "Relax, kid. You know I'm not gonna snitch. Honor among thieves and all, right? But that _is_ Ben Gates, isn't it?"

Riley shot Ben a look. He couldn't quite tell if it was _your call_ or _your funeral_. Either way, there didn't seem to be much point in trying to lie about it. "Yeah, that's me."

"Awesome." Trace grinned, then turned back to Riley. "IDs, then?"

"And passports. How long will it take?"

A shrug. "I can rush 'em along. Three hours or so."

"Perfect."

"Names?"

Riley glanced at Ben and smirked. "Paul Brown, Mike Brown, and... uh..."

"Marge Schott!" Patrick volunteered, earning an elbow in the ribcage from his ex-wife.

"Let's try to be a little less obvious, shall we?" Ben suggested, though he seemed amused as well. "I think that Marge Brown should work just fine."

"Marge," Emily grumbled, but didn't argue further.

Trace nodded and gestured to the equipment in the back of the room. "This way, then. We'll get your pictures and get this show on the road."

--

Life as a hostage was incredibly boring.

Abigail supposed she should probably be grateful that _boredom_ was even on her radar. Hostages usually didn't get to worry about things like every book in the manor being in Greek, or the fact that she couldn't go in to work. But really. All she had to do with her time was sit around and wonder how she was going to get out of this mess.

She'd finally asked, during one of Elias' many check-ins to ensure that she was alright (and see that she wasn't building an emergency radio with coat hangars, no doubt), for some paper and a couple of pencils, under the pretense that she liked to draw in her free time. That wasn't entirely inaccurate; doodling on napkins had gotten her through several dates with people she should have known better than to go out with.

Of course, buried under half a dozen innocent sketches, she'd started to draw out a layout of the manor. The guest wing was easy. The rest, she caught glimpses of while being escorted to and from dinner. For awhile she'd been flatly rejecting Selene's invitations to dine with her, but now Abigail had decided that the more she could be out of the guest wing, the better off she'd be.

Elias had apparently been instructed to not let her out of his sight, no matter what. That was complicating things. Not that she could've expected anything else, but given the fact that her captors were obviously inexperienced, she'd _hoped_. No such luck. All she could do was try to make the best of things.

Right now, that seemed to involve biding her time and being bored a lot. When Selene showed up at her door at three in the morning, looking the exact same shade of gray as the walls, it looked like things were finally about to change.

She was unusually terse. "We're leaving. Would you like to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

Well. That was a change, alright. "You could elaborate a little."

Selene frowned and tossed a small box to her. _Temporary hair dye?_ "Gates seems to have escaped from prison. I could wait for your law enforcement to recapture him, but given past history that seems unsafe. We're going to have to retrieve the next key to keep it away from him." She sighed. "You can go with red hair, or you can go tied up again. It's your decision."

"Based on whether I promise to behave or not."

"That isn't how I'd have phrased it, but yes."

Abigail heard another voice in the back of her mind. _She won't be any trouble. Promise you won't be any trouble?_ "All right." What else would she say? Going somewhere—anywhere—would present her best chance of escape. She knew it. From Selene's searching look, she certainly knew it as well.

But the other woman nodded. "I had hoped for that. Get ready. We will leave before dawn."

"Right." Abigail retreated into her room, fingering the box. Flushing the dye down the toilet would _probably_ be considered causing trouble. Too blatant. Then again, she'd never dyed her hair before. _Open, rinse, repeat_ could be more complicated than it looked. And if it took her a couple of hours to get it right, what could anyone really do about it?

--

"Are you certain this is wise, madam?"

Selene jumped, though she managed not to yell out at the voice from behind her. _How does he do __that? _Why_ does he do that?_ Elias was standing at attention just next to the entry to the guest wing, just as cool and composed as if he hadn't startled her half to death. As always. She cursed whatever predecessor had instructed him to be inconspicuous—he took it much too far.

As she recovered, he simply watched her, waiting for a response as if they had all the time in the world. Right, Response. He'd asked her a question, hadn't he?

_Was_ she certain this was wise? Ha.

"Wise?" she repeated, more harshly than she'd intended. "None of this is wise! We're holding a historian from the other side of the world hostage, hoping to stop one of the slipperiest treasure hunters ever known, and you're asking if going to Thebes is wise?"

"That was my question, yes." If being yelled at had bothered him, he showed no sign.

"I'm certain of one thing," Selene sighed as she started for her own room. "I'm certain Ben Gates must not find the vault. What's wise is not as important as what works. So let's just hope this works, shall we?"

"As you wish, madam."

What she _wished_ was that Elias would lighten up a bit and maybe offer some alternatives. Over the years, though, she'd learned that was a pointless request, so she merely shrugged. "I'm going to go pack. You ought to as well."

--

"Honor among thieves, huh?"

Riley hunched over in the driver's seat, as if he could physically deflect Patrick's question. Which, he knew, was pretty well pointless. "I never stole anything until I joined up with Ben," he retorted, sounding defensive even to himself. _Lighten up already_. His tone was calmer as he explained, "It's handy to have contacts like that when hacking is your primary occupation."

Quite true. And if anyone bothered to check, they'd find his van was indeed registered to a Bill Sparks of DC, who didn't seem to exist anywhere else.

He hoped Ben wouldn't ask where he'd dug up that name. Truthfully he wouldn't mind answering that one, the problem was, he didn't have a clue. It had just popped up. Contacts were important, when you were a hacker. False names were pretty helpful also.

Questions weren't helpful at all.

Patrick was definitely getting ready to ask him something else, but then Ben turned and hit him. Lightly. "Okay, that's enough of that. Let's work on where we go next."

Riley cast a grateful look over his shoulder, then went back to watching the road.

For all of them, the desire to move as quickly as possible was warring with the desire to not get caught, which would definitely foul things up. In the end, logic won out. Ben said it first. "We should lie low for the night. Get a flight tomorrow when things have calmed down a little bit. Not out of DC, though... they'll be watching too closely." Riley punched something into his GPS, looking for the nearest airport. "We can stay at a hotel tonight."

"Assuming you brought money," Patrick pointed out.

"Hmph." Riley slapped the glove compartment open and produced a wad of cash. "I've learned from the best. We're set. Other than the passport issue, anyway... totally not my fault, we've never done the whole _fleeing the country_ thing before."

Most of the next hour was spent with Ben and Riley discussing the plan, Patrick pointing out logistical problems, and Emily staring out the window and likely wondering why she'd ever signed on for this. By that time, darkness was falling, and Ben finally decided they were far enough from the capital that it would be best to find a room for the night.

"The earlier we get started tomorrow, the better."

"You mean I've gotta wake up in the morning two days in a row?"

"You'll manage."

--

Ben had decided it would be best to split up. So on one side of the road, Marge and Mike Brown were checking into a small, shabby motel. Returning to DC, where they'd met, to celebrate their 40th anniversary, and wasn't this just lovely? Oh, they'd heard of the big prison break, but weren't too concerned. The Brown family had only the utmost respect for United States law enforcement. Surely the escapees would be caught soon enough.

On the other side of the road, Paul Brown and Bill Sparks took a room in an equally small, equally shabby motel. They were in town for the weekend's Nationals game. A prison break? Well, DC was a big city, surely it happened all the time. The fugitives couldn't get far. They were in the nation's capital, after all.

--

_Excitement, adrenaline, and tequila._

There had been no tequila involved at Cibola, but the other two had made up for it in abundance. Emily closed her eyes. For just a few days it had been like old times again, with no need for anyone to grow up and make sacrifices. Only the joy of discovery, the thrill of the hunt. She was hardly immune to such things.

That was why she'd so abruptly pulled back when she noticed what was happening.

To call their divorce messy wouldn't be doing it the least bit of justice. The idea of having to do it all over again once the adrenaline rush ended was too much. Never mind that circumstances were completely different this time. Emily knew just as well as any Gates how important it was to learn from history—assuming one wished to avoid repeating it.

Even so...

And now here they were, alone in a motel room. She was none too certain splitting up had been necessary; at least, not for evading arrest. It was necessary for Ben, certainly, and it had nothing to do with their current situation.

Emily knew that cutting Patrick off so suddenly had not been fair to their son. For that matter, most aspects of their relationship had never been fair to Ben. Leave it to him to decide that now, with half a doen law enforcement agencies breathing down their necks, was the perfect time to play matchmaker.

_Benjamin never did have any concept of 'one thing at a time'._

Patrick was laying in the bed, pretending to be asleep and not fooling her a bit. _He wants to avoid this as much as I do, I guess._ She was content to cooperate with that. For the moment.

They were probably the most famous fugitives in the country, and on a treasure hunt besides. To even dream that she wouldn't fall into that trap of excitement again was unrealistic. At best. And if she were honest with herself, she almost hoped she would.

--

It was a little after six in the morning. Dawn was breaking, but that was really no excuse to be up at such an ungodly hour... but of course Ben couldn't sleep. He was too worried. Running from the law didn't really worry him; been there, done that, and should probably look into getting the T-shirt. Even having his parents along for the ride didn't seem too bad.

But...

Someone else was after the treasure. He knew that. It was the only logical reason for Abigail's disappearance being pinned on him—but even that didn't make sense. Why her? Why not _him? _The idea that they needed him, like Mitch had, briefly crossed his mind. But then they'd be using her as a hostage, which they weren't. She had just... disappeared.

And that was what really frightened him. All they needed was to make Abigail disappear. Her captors probably had no use for her beyond that, and that meant she likely wasn't a hostage at all.

She was likely in much, much worse shape.

_Dammit! _He drew in a long, calming breath. _Find the treasure. It's your only chance. _Her_ only chance. Find the treasure, find the other treasure hunters_. What exactly he'd do when he found them was anyone's guess, but, one step at a time. He would work on that.

Lost in thought, he was taken completely by surprise when a weight dropped onto his back. "Ben, what're you doing out here? Do you ever _sleep?_" Riley's arms draped over his shoulders and locked across his chest. "I mean, I guess you could sleep in the van today, but you might not want to do that if I'm gonna be driving."

Ben frowned, only because he knew his friend couldn't see his expression. Riley was not a touchy-feely type of person by any stretch of the imagination. This was odd. "Couldn't sleep."

"Clearly."

"So what are _you_ doing up? Since you're supposed to be driving tomorrow, and all."

"Sure, but I wasn't awake all night and pacing around the room at four in the morning like you were."

Ben considered asking how Riley knew that, then decided he didn't want to know. The kid left enough tech gear lying around to outfit a SWAT team, and that was when they _weren't_ being chased by the cops. "I've just got a lot on my mind, that's all."

"Big surprise." Riley was quiet for a few moments, and then in a somewhat softer tone, "She's going to be alright, Ben."

_Am I that obvious?_ Ben leaned his head back, meeting Riley's gaze. Johnny Raincloud telling him everything would work out. _Yes, right. Very convincing_. "Since when are you an optimist?"

Riley answered without hesitation. "Since you needed me to be."

Something about his statement hit home. Was it that easy?_ Of course it is. It always is. No matter how much trouble I've dragged him through._ He didn't say anything, he couldn't. He just squeezed Riley's hand and turned his attention back to the sunrise.


	12. The Jade Key

**Vault of the Oracle  
**Chapter 12: The Jade Key

_In the roughly forever since I last updated, the formatting in my earlier chapters seems to have gone all out of whack. Hopefully this chapter will be better-looking._

* * *

Abigail was still none too sure how she'd managed to get into this mess. Managed. As if she'd actually put some effort into it. _Ha_. She sighed and stared out the window of the car—she had the back seat to herself, which was something, anyway. Every so often she'd catch sight of her reflection in the window and be very confused for a few moments. Having red hair was _weird_. She wouldn't have expected the change to be quite so dramatic, really. Selene knew what she was doing.

Speaking of Selene, she was sitting in the front passenger seat. Elias was driving. And they were holding a fairly animated conversation in Greek, which had gotten annoying very quickly. Yes, she was a hostage, but so far her captors had at least been polite.

...Of course, she'd been annoyed when they _were_ polite. _Nothing makes you happy, does it? Then again, you're a hostage on the other side of the world. Don't be happy._

Finally she couldn't take it anymore. "So where are we going, anyway?"

Selene turned around, looking confused. "We've just been discussing that, haven't you been liste..." She trailed off as Elias interjected something in Greek. "...Ah... oh... yes, right. My apologies."

_Oh_. Despite herself, Abigail laughed.

"We're going to Thebes," Elias explained when it became clear his boss was too flustered to answer. "So far as we know. That may change."

"Well we're going to Thebes no matter what," Selene frowned, "it's just..." For a moment she hesitated, studying her 'guest' carefully and apparently weighing her options. Then she shrugged. "You have an interest in history as well, perhaps you will appreciate the search, if not its circumstances. In order to prevent the vault from being disturbed, the oracle ordered its two keys to be widely dispersed. Gates has found one; we must keep the other out of his hands."

"Because the treasu—the items in the vault are cursed," Abigail clarified, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice. If she wanted to know what was going on, it was best not to mock the explanation... but still. _Cursed_. Who believed that nonsense anymore?

The same type of people who believed in the Templar treasure and the City of Gold, probably. Thinking of it that way made her uncomfortable. Just slightly. Surely it was... it was different, it was ridiculous.

Wasn't it?

In any case, Selene nodded seriously. "Yes. Precisely. In a series of visions, the oracle personally decreed where the keys should be hidden, and the records of these statements are the only clues to where the keys can be found. These records were on scrolls discovered as part of the Templar treasure... this is how Gates obtained the information."

That seemed to imply Selene had found the information elsewhere. She probably wanted Abigail to ask about it, so despite her curiosity, Abigail didn't. "Okay, and...?"

If the other woman was disappointed she didn't show it. "The instructions are maddeningly vague, and for this key in particular, there are aspects which simply make no sense."

"And as I am continuously reminding you, the oracle thrived on not making sense," Elias broke in, with the same cool tone as always, but there was a hint of frustration. Abigail wondered how many times they'd been over this before they started speaking English. "I doubt that dwelling on it is going to change matters."

Selene sighed. "Even so..."

"What's the clue?" Abigail inquired, more out of idle curiosity than anything. If she had to be dragged along on the hunt, she may as well keep herself occupied.

Besides, maybe if they found this key, they would also find Ben. And then she was pretty sure all hell would break loose—and all hell breaking loose was usually a great help for getting out of a hostage situation.

It looked like Selene was about to hand her a sheet of paper, then thought better of it. Abigail wondered if that was a way of limiting her information, or just because it was written in Greek. "The reference is quite direct, really... 'The second key lies protected within the many gates of Thebes. Let it be shrouded in shadow, revealed by the light of Zeus'. The seven gates of Thebes are simple enough. _Light_ of Zeus?" She shook her head. "Peculiar."

Abigail's first thought was that it probably said _lightning_ of Zeus, but she cast that aside quickly. The clue was in Greek, and she had no idea if the words would be similar there. Unlikely. Besides, Selene surely knew the language well enough to avoid such mistakes. But... _wait. Thebes. Of course! _"It's in Egypt," she blurted before she could stop to think about it.

Even Elias was giving her a strange look. Selene frowned. "Egypt? ...Thebes of the Hundred Gates, of course, but... the _light_ of Zeus, yet... I don't see how putting the key in Egypt changes things. Unless... no, it was the oracle giving the clue, not the Egyptians, so—how do you figure that?"

How _did_ she figure that? It'd hit her as a gut feeling, not something overly rational. She'd learned to go with those feelings a bit more in her time with Ben. "Well, either Thebes could be said to have many gates, and you said the oracle wanted the keys to be widely dispersed. Why not send one to Egypt? It _was_ the greatest civilization in the ancient world."

The expression on Selene's face had become almost comical, and Abigail decided she might've been a little less than tactful there. "Egypt was th... what kind of nonsense are you on about?" After a moment she recovered her composure. Mostly. "That is ridiculous... we will continue on to Thebes. _Greek_ Thebes. I'm certain the clue will make sense by the time we get there."

* * *

Amazingly, for something the oracle had written, the clue made perfect sense.

"The ancient Greeks tended to pigeonhole any pantheon they came across into their own. So they equated the Egyptian Amon-Ra with Zeus. The clue references the _light_ of Zeus, which is very strange if we're talking Thebes in Greece, where Zeus would be associated with lightning. It makes a lot more sense if it's referring to Thebes in Egypt—Amon-Ra was a sun god."

"Ahh, of course. It's just how the oracle would think."

"Okay, great, great, we're supposed to be in Egypt. We're here. So now where are we supposed to be going?"

What had once been Thebes of the Hundred Gates was now Thebes of the Two Gates: namely, Ben and Patrick. Oh, and an ex-Gates and a plucky sidekick... not that Riley would have suffered anyone actually calling him a plucky sidekick.

Ben was leading the little troop through the ruins like he knew where he was going. He didn't, really. But had that ever stopped him before?

That wasn't quite true anyway. He knew where he wanted to go, just not quite how to get there, and following the flow of tourists seemed like a good bet. "We're going to the Karnak temple complex. Fortunately the Precinct of Amon-Ra is open to visitors, because that's surely where the key's going to be hidden. The light of Zeus."

"Right. Sounds good." Riley was glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, which wasn't making them look suspicious at all, though they _had_ cleared customs with no difficulty. Ben watched his friend carefully; Riley had been far more on edge than usual, and that was saying something, since taking them to the photography shop. No surprise, but still.

_Someday you've got to tell me... or I'm going to burst from the curiosity_.

For now, at least, he could handle letting the questions build up. After all, he had the current predicament to distract him. Being on the run wasn't enough; ducking the law was really starting to get a little boring. But there was still the fact that Abigail was missing. He wasn't quite sure what he planned to do when he found her captors, but... he was working on that.

Following the tourists came through; before long Ben and his companions were wandering the majestic ruins of Karnak. "So what are we looking for now?" Riley asked, glancing uneasily at a row of crumbling sphinxes. "Keep walking until we find the one with the thunderbolt?"

"I'd expect some representation of Amon-Ra himself," Emily suggested. She's barely spoken since they arrived in Egypt—and when she had it was mostly to tell Patrick to stop talking—so Ben took that as a good sign.

Actually, she was taking life as a fugitive pretty well, other than the alias. And Patrick calling her Marge every chance he got probably wasn't helping.

* * *

It took two hours to find the appropriate statue. Would've taken about fifteen minutes if Ben hadn't stopped to admire the scenery every three steps. _We've got the entire FBI on our tails and he's worried about the age of the sandstone! _Riley shook his head and bit back a laugh. It was so... so... so very _Ben_.

So now the four of them stood in front of a huge statue that looked strangely familiar, really. "It's kind of like the big bluish-green man from the Templar treasure room," he declared, looking over the grand sculpture. "Except, y'know, the hat's a lot taller. I'm going to assume that's also significant."

Emily gave him an odd look. "I would call the creator deity significant, yes..."

"He's always like this, Mom." Ben was already pacing around the statue, casting occasional nervous glances at the entrance to the room, but there were hardly any tourists even passing by. They'd gone far off the main thoroughfare of the ruins to find this place. "Now I'd imagine there's something about this statue that would cause some unusual reflection of the sunlight. That would explain how the light of Zeus could be directed to a certain point."

Emily crossed her arms. "So we could be waiting here all day for the light to the light to come in just right, if we haven't missed it already?"

"We could, if you want to look at it that way." Ben pulled two flashlights out and tossed one to Riley. "Or we could start trying to trigger the reflection ourselves. By the way, have I mentioned that you sound exactly like Dad did when he was trying to talk me out of finding the Templar treasure? You two really do have a lot in common." With that, he started waving the flashlight around, pointedly avoiding looking at his mother.

She and Patrick exchanged glances; they never seemed quite certain whether they ought to be more worried about being anywhere near each other, or about their son trying to get them back together. Riley thought it was cute. Of course, Riley also admitted to himself, his finding things like this funny might have some small bearing on why he'd never had a girlfriend.

Contrary to popular opinion, he had some sense of tact. Minimal, but there. So he refrained from actually _saying_ they were cute.

Waving the flashlight around at the statue, he suppressed the natural urge for such an act for about ten seconds... then he started making lightsaber noises. "Bzzzt! Whoosh! Bzzzt! Shoooom! Bzzz—ack!" As if he'd personally offended the sun god by his irreverence, the light reflected right back at him. These were high powered flashlights—he ought to know, he'd picked them out. And if he'd ever had any thought that Egyptian flashlights might be inferior to their American counterparts, it was erased as his whole field of vision went painfully blue-white. "Owww..."

"Riley!" Ben rushed over "You found it, great!"

"Yeah." Riley rubbed his eyes, and blinked back afterimages of a vaguely Darth Vader-looking form with a strange goatee. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

Ben, being Ben, had stopped listening.

Riley stepped aside and watched as Ben moved over to the wall, near where he'd been standing when he owned his own face with the flashlight. The older man was frowning. "I don't see..." Running a hand along the wall he hesitated, looked at the statue again, then switched his light on. With a bit of trial and error he successfully found the spot where the reflection was perfectly straight—searing right into _his_ eyes, but he didn't seem to concerned.

Of course, this was the same Ben Gates who'd sliced his finger open on a creepy old ship rather than wait five minutes to hunt down some ink.

Again he felt the wall, with his companions simply watching him. Everyone in the room knew how to deal with Ben Moments by now. Emily was shifting a little impatiently, but Riley and Patrick just leaned back and waited.

"Got it!" A dull _click_ as one of the bricks—the one the light would have fallen on if Ben's face weren't in the way—shifted and swung outward. Something green and glistening sat in the dark chamber he'd just revealed, and he removed it with his usual reverence for anything older than the Eniac.

The key was similar to the first one in design—a slab of opaque gemstone with a series of jagged ridges on one side, and an intricate carving on the other. This time rather than a dragon, the carving depicted a man in flowing garments holding some sort of harp. During the course of their research Riley had seen that harp before, so he didn't need to ask; even he could recognize the god Apollo when he saw him.

Naturally, by the time he was done studying the artifact's appearance, his friend was worrying about less practical things. Like, say, its composition.

"It's jade," Ben said softly, drawing shocked looks from both of his parents. He nodded to confirm some question neither of them had asked. "The keys weren't just for utility; the oracle's making a statement."

"What, that she's jaded?" Riley asked promptly.

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Jade would have to come from the Far East; it'd be exceptionally rare and valuable in Greek society."

The words _rare and valuable_ rarely failed to perk Riley's interest, but he was pretty sure that asking for any more detail would just get him a lecture on trade routes. He could deal with Ben trying to expand his historical education. He could deal with running from the cops. Both at once was asking a bit much... not that this had ever stopped Ben.

Or his father.

Or his girlfriend.

Right, his girlfriend. They were supposed to be looking for her, too.

Ben placed the key in a small padded box he'd brought along for the purpose, then replaced the wall panel. "Okay, let's get out of here."

Riley stared at him. "You mean we're not going to stand here continuing our oooh-ing and ahhh-ing over the statue, and the architecture, and the quality of the sandstone, until we have a bunch of thugs with guns breathing down our necks? Ben, have you taken your temperature lately?"

His friend arched an eyebrow. "We can spend longer if you want."

"No! Let's go. Move. Leave. Now." He bolted for the door, leaving Ben's parents blinking after him; Ben himself just chuckled. He was more than used to this by now.

About three steps after turning the corner, Riley skidded to a stop. He was certain he'd just seen a familiar face in the crowd of tourists, and there was absolutely no reason he should be recognizing anyone in the middle of Egypt...

He waited, tensed and ready to start zapping thugs with a flashlight, but the thugs never showed up. This time.

Next time might be totally different.


End file.
